


Fly Little Bird

by 394percentdone



Series: Nas'tua tan vhenan [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Threesome - M/M/M, assholes in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 63,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7165733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/394percentdone/pseuds/394percentdone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Da'ean Lavellan tries to figure out how to put his life back together after the Conclave blew it apart, and finds some helping hands to hold him through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. As it happens

**Author's Note:**

> Major spoilers for in-game dialogue, romance cut-scenes, and general elf lore.

“Iron Bull I presume,” Da’ean tried taking in the large Qunari in one glance but found himself lingering at the vast expanse of exposed chest. The man must have been at least a little bit cold in this abysmal weather, leaving himself bare as he did.

 

“Yea, the horns usually give it away.” He seemed amused, gesturing back to the camp. Da’ean followed the movement, tracing his way along Iron Bull’s arm and across his chest. Again.

 

“So, you've seen us fight. We're expensive, but we’re worth it.” Bull definitely looked worth it, and if the wink he threw Da’ean’s way was anything to go by he had noticed the elf's train of thought. Da’ean felt his ears burn but didn't turn away. 

 

“The Chargers seem like an excellent company.” He managed. 

 

“They are, but you're not just getting the boys. You're getting me.”

 

Da’ean’s thoughts scattered, he knew there was a time in his life when he had been more subtle. He started paying attention again at the spy bit, and officially hiring Bull led to a second round of blushing with the admitted redhead preference. Creators, this man was unlike anyone Da’ean had ever met, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. 

  
  
  


Going straight to Redcliffe from the Storm Coast may not have been Da’ean’s best idea, but it was better than sitting around Haven with every other shem giving him shifty eyed looks. Immediately he had misgivings about trusting the Former Grand Enchanter however when the scout told them no one was expecting them. Crawling across his shoulders like an itch he couldn’t scratch, or when he knew he was being watched but couldn’t see by whom, which only intensified as an elf came to tell them about the Magister in charge. 

 

After securing a healer for the crossroads Da’ean entered the Gull and Lantern in the upper part of the city, where he was greeted first by a very confused Fiona. And second by a man whose taste in fashion left a sour taste in Da’ean’s mouth. His son seemed a little more reasonable, if a bit dramatic. 

 

“Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.”

 

The building was less than impressive when they arrived, but the sound of combat coming from inside enticed him to open the heavy doors with more force than was probably necessary. 

 

“Good, you're finally here. Now help me close this will you.”

 

The prettiest human Da’ean had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on whirled back around to face the next wave of demons, displaying a remarkable finesse Da’ean immediately decided to shelve and come back to later. The rift itself was a simple matter, only spilling lesser terrors and a few wraiths from its depths. 

 

Fighting was what Da’ean was good at, it cleared his head of the confusing mess for a moment. Grinning savagely as he sank his daggers into the last of the terrors, Da’ean sent it back into the Fade. The mark twinged, reminding him of the rifts current weakness. Da’ean thrust his hand out toward it, and closed his fist as he pulled it back. 

 

“Fascinating, how does one do that exactly?”

 

Some of Da’ean’s confusion must have shown on his face because the man just chuckled and moved quickly on, “You don't even know do you. You just wiggle your fingers and boom, rift closes.”

 

“Who are you?” 

 

Maybe if he had a name he could focus on something over than the man’s face. 

 

“Ah, getting ahead of myself again I see. Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?” 

 

“Watch yourself, the pretty ones are always the worst.” At least Bull seemed to agree with him.

 

“Suspicious friends you have there.” Dorian seemed unfazed by the comment, continuing on with this explanation of his importance; until the Magister’s son reappeared, he may have said it was just a lingering illness earlier but the tightness around his eyes belied a deeper, truer concern. 

 

After they parted ways with Dorian, Da’ean decided clearing out the few rifts they saw earlier on the trip up would be an excellent way to clear his head. 

 

“What do you think of him Bull?” He told himself he was interested in Bull's opinion because he had the most experience in dealing the Imperium. His question was answered with a heavy sigh, 

 

“He seems like he wants to help, but all of his blustering is hiding something.” 

 

Da’ean hummed, “Is it a human thing to make yourself sound important, Vivienne does it as well.”

 

“My dear I may be paces in front of you but my hearing is still quite functional.”

 

Bull laughed, “It's a big time human thing. Orlais’ favorite pastime.”

 

Vivienne scoffed while Sera laughed, “They always think themselves to be big britches, ‘til they don’t have any.”

Da’ean filed that information away for later and promised himself not to get on Sera’s bad side. He was pulled away from his thoughts as the first of the rifts came into view and his hand tried to catch fire. 

 

“Let's finish closing these and head back to Haven.”

  
  
  
  


Da’ean laid his head against the rough bark of the tree he was reclining in. The open air of the forested area surrounding Haven was a blessed relief to the elf. Not being able to sleep with the stars above him was more stressful than Da’ean had first believed it would be, the four days journey from Redcliffe had once again let him fall asleep out in the open. Da’ean shut his eyes, and took a deep breath, this little respite wouldn't last for long he knew, but every so often he needed a break from taking care of humans problems. 

 

“Hey Boss, that pretty commander was looking for you.” 

 

“You know for a Qunari you're remarkably light on your feet.” Da’ean grumbled from his perch, sighing in agitation as he opened his eyes and swung his feet over the branch, “Are you here to bring me back?”

 

Bull chuckled, “No, just thought you might need some nonjudgmental, nonhuman company. Although I won't be able to climb that tree.” 

 

Da’ean rolled his eyes, then glanced at Bulls face. He wasn't sure where he stood with the Qunari, his light flirting was received with good humor, but he also knew that didn't have to mean anything at all. He looked sincere though, so Da’ean decided to respond in kind. 

 

“I feel safer in the trees”

 

“I guess I'm not big enough to pretend huh” 

 

Da’ean’s eyes widened, his chest suddenly tight. Surely Bull didn’t mean what Da’ean was thinking, though maybe it wouldn’t hurt to find out. Bull had treated him with nothing but kindness so far, if he was misinterpreting things, he doubted Bull would be cruel about it. His gaze dropped from Bull’s eyes to his hands, then to the branch beneath his own. Taking a deep breath he lowered himself down to the ground, he stood for a long second in front of Bull, before wrapping his arms around the Qunari’s bulk and pressing his face against his chest. Bull held him close for a beat of silence. 

 

“If pretending to be a tree always ends with you crawling all over me, we should pretend more often.”

 

Da’ean laughed, the first real laugh he remembered since the Conclave.  “I'm sure you can think of more interesting things to pretend to be.”

 

“I might have to hold you to that one Boss.”  Bull’s voice dropped in pitch, and the tips of Da’ean’s ears flushed. He swiftly decided it would be safer for them both if he returned to the main village.

 

“I should probably head back, I've taken advantage of Cullen's kind hearted nature enough already.”

 

Bull dropped his arms, freeing Da’ean from his embrace. “Alright Boss, you know where to find me if you need me.”

 

“Thanks Bull.” Da’ean nodded back to him once, and headed back to the Chantry, a new lightness to his steps.

 

“What did you need me for Commander?” 

 

The dusty light inside the chantry always made Da’ean’s eyes ache, though the headache was small compared to the one he gained whenever he dealt with human nobles. 

 

“Leliana wants to talk about the possible actions we can take in regards to the mages in Redcliffe.” 

 

Another long meeting then, “When does she want us?” 

 

“Now if possible,” Cullen himself looked resigned to an evening of arguments. 

 

“Alright,” 

 

Cullen nodded and entered the room where they held council. Da’ean ran a hand down his face and followed him. 

 

The war council, though long, was not as long as Da’ean was expecting, nor as boring. Mostly due to the unexpected arrival of one extremely attractive mage. They decided to go to Redcliffe in three days time, long enough for Leliana’s agents to get rid of any possible complications. Da’ean planned to spend a fair amount of that time hunting in the area he’d been resting in. It had been far too long since the last time he'd been on a hunt. And while this would not be a true hunt, he could still bask in the refreshing air uncontaminated by nearby human habitation. A soothing thought for him indeed. 

 

The days passed faster than Da’ean realized and he soon found himself staring down a Magister for the second time in his life. A clearly insane Magister whose ideals were radically different from any of Da’ean’s own. As Alexius did not want to back down, Da’ean readied himself for a fight, before Dorian shoved him out of the way with a shout.

 

Abruptly, he found himself calf-deep in something he desperately hoped was water. Apparently his appearance was just as startling to others as it was to him, if the confused noises and slow drawing of blades meant anything. Dealing with them quickly, Da’ean’s slightly jumbled thought process was halted by Dorian’s rambling. 

 

“Displacement? Interesting. It’s probably not what Alexius intended, the rift must have moved us. To what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

 

The last time Da’ean had been this confused, he was being interrogated by grief-mad shems. “The last thing I remember we were in the castle hall.”

 

“Let’s see, if we’re still in the castle, it isn’t… Oh! Of course! It’s not simply where it’s when. Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time.”

 

Dorian looked a little too excited for Da’ean’s taste currently, his eyes a little too bright for such an idea. Though if he thought they had moved through time then Da’ean would need to know their present to be able to try and fix the situation.

 

“Did we go forward in time or back? And how far?”

 

“Those are excellent questions, we’ll have to find out won’t we.” Da’ean felt a sudden urge to strangle the man with his mustache. “Let’s look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back,  if we can.”

 

“What was Alexius trying to do?” There had to be some sense to this, even if Alexius didn’t mean for this to happen, he meant for something to occur.

 

“I believe his original plan was to remove you from time completely. If that happened you would never have been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes or mangled his Elder One’s plans.I think your surprise in the castle hall made him reckless. He tossed us into the rift before he was ready. I countered it, the magic went wild and here we are. Make sense?”

 

No, not at all really, magic had never been Da’ean’s strongest point. “It just seems so insane.”

 

“I don’t even want to think about what this did to the world. We didn’t travel through time so much as punch a hole through it and toss it in the priv.” He paused, looking Da’ean over, “Don’t worry, I’m here, I’ll protect you.” 

 

Da’ean felt a familiar tightness in his chest, maybe this flashy shem was kinder than he let on, more perceptive by far in the least. He ran a hand through his hair, “And what happens if we can’t get back?”

 

“Then we get comfortable in our new present.”

 

Da’ean led them out of the room, trying hard to get the situation sorted out in his head. If only they had been affected then surely everyone else would just be waiting for them where, and when they left them. If they could just find Alexius’s amulet they would probably be alright. Using those thoughts to sustain himself, Da’ean navigated his way out of the cells. The whole area was giving him the creeps. The cold air was slowly seeping into his bones and seemed to only warm near the disturbing pillars of rock and those were emitting a sinister glow. The bridge they came across was made of wire, which gave him a slight pause, a wave of vertigo sending shivers through him. 

 

The single most terrifying about the whole scenario were his other companions. Infused with the same baleful glow, Bull and Vivienne had expressed no small desire to end Alexius’s reign; though in their corrupted state Da’ean was unsure they would be able to put up a fight. Seeing Bull like this tore at him; he should have been there prevented all of this from happening. He locked eyes with Dorian, vowing to return and never allow for this to be true. Dorian just shook his head, but he did grab Da’ean’s hand and squeezed. 

  
  


They found Fiona next, or rather what was left of her. She told them of the real power behind Alexius, the Elder One, and what he was planning with the lyrium. He couldn't do anything for her in that state, so he left with a quick prayer to Falon’Din to guide her path. 

 

As soon as they reached the bridge again a squad of guards were ready to take them down. 

 

“I guess we've been found out.”

 

They took care of them quickly, moving up the stairs to an open area from which the guards had come. Spreading out, they assessed the room and all those beyond. 

 

It wasn't too long before they stumbled upon the mangled corpse of a revered mother, and not a minute later they came across Leliana’s skeletal form. Da’ean had respected and feared the Nightingale as soon as he had seen her move. A hunter knows another hunter, but Leliana was far more than a simple hunter. She was the combined power of Fear and Deceit, without Dirthamen to control them. 

 

The party broke her bonds and she accompanied them on their way forward. They ran into a man wholly consumed by the red lyrium, who dropped a curious shard. 

 

“Hold on to that will you, I want to look at it later.” 

 

If it could be of use, Da’ean would bring back Alexius’s withered heart. He doubted Dorian would appreciate his ruthless view however, so he just grunted in agreement. 

 

As they approached the throne room they were barred by a large, odd looking door. The shard Da’ean was carrying lit up the closer they neared. 

 

“Maybe there are more of these shards?”

 

They found four more captains who dropped four more shards, “Let's head back to the door, I think I have an idea.”

 

If Da’ean was not so drained from the idea of staying trapped in this malevolent future, he would have told Dorian he, and the rest of the party, most likely had the same idea. Unfortunately, his tongue was not feeling up to the task, instead he wearily led them all back to the throne room’s massive door. The shards aligned themselves and it swung open, revealing Alexius. 

 

The lone figure was staring into the fireplace in the center of the dias, looking far more remorseful than he ought. 

 

“Look at what you've done Alexius, all this suffering and for what?”

 

“For my country, for my son.” He voice was weak; broken and thin. Da’ean knew what it was like to fight against overwhelming opposition to try and save family. He knew he would have sacrificed as many shems as needed to have saved Ashalle not even three years ago. But this, the whole world consumed by a madman playing at godhood, no one's life was worth this. 

 

“But it means nothing now. I knew you would appear again, not that I knew it would be now, but I knew I hadn't destroyed you. My final failure.” The worn Magister turned away from them, returning his gaze to the fireplace. 

 

“Was it worth it? Everything you did to the world, to yourself?”  Dorian sounded two parts angry, one part heartbroken. Da’ean could only guess as to what was going on behind his eyes, but he had enough experience with self blame to to know he was probably close. He wanted to comfort the mage, tell him there was no way this was his fault, but the man barely knew him and most likely wouldn't appreciate a stranger offering comfort for such an intimate affair. Da’ean shoved the feeling down, and focused on the Magister in front of him. 

 

“It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.” 

 

“What do you mean? What is ending?”

 

Alexius chuckled grimly, “The irony that you should appear now, of all the possibilities. All that I have fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else.” 

 

Da’ean felt like throttling the man, if he saw what he had done he should be fighting back, not wallowing in his own despair. In this way he was worthless, if only he'd resisted, Da’ean shook the thoughts from his head. Now was not the time for navel gazing, if they lived through this he would take all of this newfound knowledge and make sure this nightmare realm stayed as such; only a figment of his mind. 

 

“The Elder One comes for me, for you, for us all.” 

 

Leliana appeared In the shadows behind the only other person in the room, dragging him to his feet and held a dagger to his throat. Alexius swiveled to face her in alarm, crying out his son's name. 

 

“That's Felix? Maker's Breath Alexius what have you done?”  The deep sorrow in Dorian's voice changed to anger halfway through, and he clenched and unclenched his hands around his staff. 

 

“He would have  _ died _ Dorian. I saved him.”

 

At that point Da’ean understood, the fevered light in Alexius’s eyes was what twisted love remained for his son. He was unwilling to let Felix die because it would be another failure on Alexius’s part. It would be too painful for Alexius to bear, never mind that Felix should be dead. Was probably in so much pain he wished he was, if he was even still aware of anything around him. 

 

“Please, don't hurt my son. I'll do anything you ask.” 

 

It wasn't for Da’ean to decide Felix’s fate, if he wanted death, he would seek it for himself. 

 

“Leliana, let Felix go. He is innocent.”

 

Leliana’s tone was as raspy and cold as a breeze through the highest mountain. “No one is innocent.” She slit his throat and his body hit the floor with a flump. 

 

Alexius screamed, his denial of his son's death seemingly torn from the depths of his soul. He swung around his staff and sent a bolt of energy flying towards Leliana. Da’ean slid his daggers from their sheaths, their soft whispers pulling him back to himself. Iron Bull spun his great axe in his hands and wasted no time in charging Alexius. Da’ean followed, shifting into the shadows as he ran, feeling the soft slither of Vivienne's barrier over his skin. Alexius fought hard, using his staff to fight in close quarters and slinging  both spells and rifts into the air. The pauses the rifts caused only seemed to allow Alexius a slight breather and Da’ean wondered when the last time the mage had seen battle. 

 

A lessor terror broke the ground underneath his feet and sliced his ribs through his leather. Hissing in pain Da’ean jumped back, turned and landed both of his daggers in the terrors back, melting it into the floor. Alexius, weakened from the strain of opening the rifts, was easy enough to defeat. Though Da’ean did feel a small pang of remorse when he saw Dorian's face. 

 

“He wanted to die, didn't he.” The anguish of it was visible in his eyes, rending his normal smirk. “All those lies he told himself, the justifications. He lost Felix long ago and didn't even notice. Oh Alexius…” 

 

“This Alexius was too far gone, but the Alexius in our time might still be reasoned with.” Da’ean hoped beyond hope he could be, if only to take the tormented slump of Dorian's shoulders away.

 

“I suppose that's true. This is the same amulet he used before. I think it's the same one we made in Minrathous. That's a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used and I should be able to reopen the rift.”

 

Leliana scurried over to where they stood on the dias, “An hour? That's impossible, you must go now.” The building shook around them, accompanied by an unearthly shriek. Leliana went rigid, cocking her head toward the door. “The Elder One.”

 

“I was wondering when he'd show.” Da’ean had never heard Bull sound so defeated and he never wanted to hear it again. Bull and Vivienne shares a glance, then turned to face Da’ean and Dorian, “We'll head out front, keep them off your tail.”

 

No, no, _ no _ , not again. Da’ean would not see anyone else die for him again. “I can't let you kill yourselves for me! There must be another way.”

 

“Look at us, we are already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes.” Da’ean’s heart constricted in his chest; fenedhis he was just like Alexius.Thinking only of himself and his own pain, giving no pause to the pain of those around him. His companions headed to the door, “Cast your spell, you have as much time as I have arrows.” 

 

The door shut, Bull and Vivienne hidden behind it, Leliana directly in front of them. 

 

“Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame,” Bull’s broken body being flung inside the door pierced Da’ean to his core, Vivienne's blank stare gazing into his very soul. “Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side.”

 

There were too many, Leliana maybe a demon in her own right but even she needed help now. Da’ean reached forward, but Dorian's hand on his shoulder stopped him cold. 

 

“You move and we all die.”

 

He was right, of course he was right. The man was stronger than he seemed. The rift flared behind them, but Da’ean’s attention was grabbed as Leliana grunted in pain. An arrow through her shoulder and a talon at her throat, Da’ean locked eyes with her as his world exploded into black fire around him.

 

They rematerialized exactly where they had stood before Alexius cast his spell. Dorian twirled the amulet in his hand and smiled jauntily, “You’ll have to do better than that.” Alexius fell to his knees, beaten. 

 

“Put aside all claim to Redcliffe and we let you live.” Da’ean felt his anger boil over into his answer but he no longer cared.

 

“You won, there is no point extending this charade.” He glanced over to his son, still alive but only just. “Felix.”

 

Felix knelt beside him, “It’s going to be alright father.” 

 

Alexius’s voice broke, “You'll die.”

 

“Everyone dies.”

 

Felix's answer increased his standing in Da’ean’s eyes greatly. Alexius stood slowly and walked out of the room followed by Inquisition agents.

 

“Well, glad that's over with.” Da’ean still felt uneasy, it wouldn't that easy to remove Alexius from power completely. Soldiers entered the room, plate armor clanking against itself. “Or not.” Dorian almost sighed. 

 

A man Da’ean didn't recognize strode into the room. “Grand Enchanter. Imagine how surprised I was to learn you'd given Redcliffe castle to a Tevinter Magister.” 

 

Fiona walked meekly into the newcomers presence. “King Alistair.”

 

Alistair took no notice of her speech, “Especially since I'm fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan.” 

 

Fiona clasped her hands in front of herself, “Your Majesty, we never intended.”

 

The king cut her off, “I know what you intended, I wanted to help you but you've made it impossible.” He shook his head wearily, “You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden.”

 

“But we have hundreds who need protection. Where will we go?” 

 

Though she had been a fool, they could still help the mages. “The Inquisition might be willing to take in the mages.”

 

“And what are the terms of this arrangement?” Clearly she was trying to do better after her last mistake.

 

“Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you. The Inquisition  _ is  _ better than that yes?” Dorian’s tone held both hope and reproach. The Inquisition as a whole may not be, but it was Da’ean they sent and he certainly was.

 

“It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer.”

 

“We would be honored to have the mages fight as allies at the Inquisition's side.”

 

“I'll pray the rest of the Inquisition honors your promise then.” 

 

As did Da’ean, he needed everyone to work together, it was the only way this would work. In the clan, everyone understood that, these humans and their petty disputes over meaningless things would never make sense to him. 

 

“The Breach threatens all of Thedas. We cannot afford to be divided now. We can't fight it without you, any chance of success requires your full support.”

 

Alistair cut in with his own advice, “I'd take that offer if I were you. One way or another you're leaving my kingdom.”

 

Fiona nodded solemnly, “We accept, it would be madness not to. I will gather my people for the journey to Haven. The Breach will be closed, you will not regret giving us this chance.”

 

The road back to Haven was largely uneventful, though Da’ean could feel Vivienne's disapproval radiating off her. Bull was quite, and Da’ean knew he didn't like his decision either. But he didn't regret his choice, people should be free.

 

Cullen's response when they arrived back was even more vehement than the elf had been expecting. 

 

“It's not a matter for debate, there will be abominations among the mages and we must be prepared.” 

 

“If we rescind the offer of an alliance it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst.” Josephine was right, as usual. She was probably his favorite out of the inner circle. She was level headed and came to him as an equal, something Da’ean had not been expecting from the human noble. 

 

“What were you thinking turning the mages loose with no oversight? The Veil is torn open.”

 

“Mages are people too, they deserve our respect.” 

 

“This is not a question about respect, even the strongest mages can be overcome by demons in conditions like these.” 

 

“The point of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages aid and that was accomplished.” Cassandra stopped Cullen from an even longer tirade.

 

“The voice of pragmatism speaks, and here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments.”

 

Did the man ever just walk? Dorian almost sauntered over to one of the pillars holding the chantry up before leaning onto it.

 

Cassandra rounded up to face him, “Closing the Breach is all that matters.”

 

For once Da’ean agreed completely with Cassandra, “As long as the Breach is open the more damage it does. We should head there as soon as possible.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

“We should look into these things you saw in this dark future. The assassination of Empress Celene, a demon army?”

 

Both Josephine and Leliana didn't seem to hate him for his choice at least.

 

“Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone.”

 

One battle at a time. It's going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let's take this to the war room.” Cullen looked Da’ean in the eye for the first time that evening, “Join us, none of this means anything without your mark after all.*

 

Right, the mark itself was the only thing the shems cared about, not the elf attached to it.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Meet us when you're ready.” Josephine, it seemed, had noticed the way his thoughts were shaping.

 

“I'll skip the war council, but I would like to see this Breach up close if you don't mind.”

 

“Then you're staying?” Da’ean felt his heart race like he hasn't in years.

 

“Oh? Didn't I mention? The south is so charming and rustic, I adore it to little pieces.”

 

“There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time with, future or present.” He'd never been good with words, not like Idrilla, Da’ean could feel his face and ears burn. 

 

“Excellent choice, but let's not get stranded again anytime soon yes?” Maybe he'd not just made a fool of himself in front of the entire council.

 

“I'll begin making preparations to march on the summit. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory.”

 

Mythal’s mercy Da’ean hoped it would be enough. The council parted ways after saying their goodnights, but Da’ean caught Dorian before he could leave.

 

“I know we just met but would you mind terribly going on an expedition into the Hinterlands after the war council tomorrow?” Never had he been so affected by a single person so quickly, though it might have been the whole stranded in time thing that was giving him this close feeling. “I'd.. I'd feel better if you were with me.” 

 

Dorian looked at him strangely, “I do hope your spymaster didn't hear that.” 

 

Da’ean flushed. “I didn't mean,”

 

“It’s quite alright Herald, I know what you meant.” Dorian looked disappointed, Fen’Harel’s teeth he knew he could do better.

 

“Da’ean,” he said quickly, “My name is Da’ean. I feel I may forget my own name when no one ever uses it.”

 

He felt like a newborn halla, stumbling around on legs he didn't know how to use.

 

Dorian smiled at him, “I'd be most pleased to accompany you tomorrow Da’ean.” 

  
The elf beamed, nodded his thanks, and almost ran out the door.


	2. A fool elf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light references to past captivity in this chapter.

Dawn broke and Da’ean was there to meet it. His restless nights would eventually take their toll, he knew he was already beginning to have bags develop under his eyes. For now, he would deal with the fatigue, and maybe drink some elfroot tea.

The war council Cullen had called for the previous night lasted for a good portion of the morning. Though all it accomplished was setting a date to go back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes and see if their new allies would be enough to close the Breach. In a fortnight’s time the new recruits would be ready; giving Da’ean just enough time to take a small party to the Hinterlands and inquire about Master Dennet, along with closing any rifts they came across.

He’d already asked Dorian, and he knew Bull would come along after their talk if he requested him. Varric on the other hand, he wasn’t sure about. Da’ean liked the dwarf, his fatherly disposition lent him credit and his kindness told Da’ean everything else. However he wasn’t comfortable with asking him on the go, it felt too disrespectful to him. Da’ean felt Varric would understand though, especially since Da’ean wanted to clear out a dwarven ruin he’d stumbled upon during his last trip.

The party took their leave roughly an hour after the council, to Da’ean’s pleasure. The rifts were what he was looking forward to, skirmishes with demons were much preferable to the shemlen politics the inner circle kept on about. They were interesting sure, Da’ean enjoyed the little intrigues and maneuverings required to be successful, but he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea of the size of the human political machinations.

The trip down to the Hinterlands was relaxing, Da’ean was able to collect all the elfroot he could carry. The simpleness of snipping the leaves and folding them into his pouch was for some reason, more pleasant with his present company. Varric was cleaning Bianca gingerly on a nearby stone, and Dorian was busy harassing Bull.

“I hope it doesn’t bother you to travel alongside a ‘Vint’ Iron Bull.”

Fenedhis, the elf hurriedly packed the rest of his herbs back into his pouches. How could he have forgotten about the history between their two nations?

“That what you are? You people all kinda look the same to me.”

Da’ean breathed a sigh of relief, one he saw mirrored by Varric. Even though Bull seemed monstrous and brutish, he was the most amicable person Da’ean had come across since the conclave. Dorian had a smart mouth on him, but it was nothing Bull would get actually mad over, in fact he may actually enjoy it the more Da’ean thought about it.

“I’m also a mage. Would you prefer me bound and leashed?”

Now that was an image Da’ean would return to later, preferably alone. He saw Bull slowly take Dorian in, and the mage blushed prettily.

“I’d buy you dinner first.”

“Hopefully before you sewed my mouth shut.”

Dorian kept pushing, why did he keep pushing? It wasn’t like the cocky mage Da’ean had grown to enjoy over the past two days, it was similar yes, but what lay underneath was completely different. Dorian almost sounded antagonistic, like he wanted Bull to get angry, to yell. Da’ean couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“Depends on how much you keep yapping.” Bull turned away from Dorian, effectively ending the exchange.

Da’ean looked back behind to the two of them, when he caught Dorian’s eye, the mage bristled and looked away. Shelving his questions for later Da’ean turned back ahead, checking around for anymore elfroot.

They reached Dennet's house later in the evening, though he was less than excited to greet them. He sent them to his wife and farmhand, who in turn gave them simple enough tasks to do. The party set up camp not far from Dennet’s farm, deciding to clear out the wolves and mark the guard towers locations the next day.

Da’ean spotted Dorian sitting by a fire a little ways out of the main camp. Walking over, he quickly assessed what he knew of the man. Quick-witted and charming, he threw Da’ean off, unlike anyone before. He smiled like a shark, but had no teeth to speak of. He was loud, especially when talking about himself, yet he never actually gave anything true away. Dorian puffed himself up like a pigeon, he blew hot air and boasted of things he did not really believe. He was an enigma to Da’ean, one he wanted to solve badly.

But first he had some questions, he wanted to know about Dorian’s homeland so he could better understand the man. Gently, Da’ean sat himself next to the mage, spooking him in the process.

“By the Maker, a little warning next time please.” Dorian’s hand fluttered up next to his heart, eyes wide. “Do your eyes always do that?” Da’ean frowned slightly in confusion, reaching up with his hands, “Glow I mean. It’s… Well it’s rather roguish.” The mage blushed faintly. Da’ean thought the look was good on him, and wondered how many times he could get the human to do it.

He smiled crookedly, “At night yes, all elven eyes do so, helps us see clearly in the dark. Though I didn’t come here for you to just gaze into them.”

Dorian’s blush deepened. “What did you seek out my illustrious company out for then?”

“I wanted to ask you about earlier,”

Da’ean was cut off by Dorian’s sighing, “I was a complete ass to Bull wasn’t I. Seems to be one of my more immediate qualities.” He hung his head, hands in his lap, “He was there, in Redcliffe.”

Da’ean felt his stomach bottom out, he did not want to even think about Redcliffe, much less talk about it.

“In that future he seemed… It was like he’d been consumed by a despair demon. I wanted to see what he was like here; if there was a strong person before, what could have caused him to be so hopeless.” He chuckled darkly, “Clearly he has more tact than I.”

Dorian had thought it through, he hadn’t run away from the possibility like Da’ean had. The rogue felt a wave of hot shame flood him, how could people like Dorian ever look to a coward like Da’ean was beyond him. He swallowed hard, “You… You were thinking about their fates when you didn’t even know them?”

Dorian looked him in the eye and gently took his hand, “I was thinking more about myself and what could have happened without you.”

Here the whole night before Da’ean had been wracked with terror; thoughts about his failures, his shortcomings, his weaknesses. He’d thought himself alone and the whole time Dorian had been by his side. He was selfish, and careless to not have even considered how affected the other man must have been.

“I’m sorry,” Da’ean rasped, “I shouldn’t have failed them.”

Dorian squeezed his hand, “You didn’t fail them at all, they’re here, in this timeline because of you.”

“Thank you lethal’lin,” Da’ean squeezed back, his chest lighter than it had been in days, “I’ll try to remember that.”

“As well you should. Though I must regrettably take my leave, and I suggest you do the same. We have an early morning ahead of us.”

Da’ean loosened his hand from Dorian’s and walked with him back to their tents.

The following week was more hectic than expected. The demon which infected the wolves was a simple enough matter, but there were more rifts than had been reported. Even closing two a day, it took a better part of the week to seal them all. The mark was a constant ache, its volatile magic making it difficult to grip his daggers properly. The watchtowers were built and Dennet even agreed to come back to Haven after Dorian taunted him a little. They also stumbled across the missing scout Ritts, along with the young apostate she had been canoodling with. Da’ean’s bleeding heart got the better of him when they arrived back in the Crossroads, agreeing to fetch potion, blankets, and even more ram meat.

“Do you ever stop helping?” Dorian asked on their last night before heading back to Haven. Da’ean glanced over at him, Dorian had expressed nothing but approval as he has helped those he could. It was in his nature as a hunter to provide, he couldn’t just leave those people to suffer needlessly.

“Is something wrong?” He doubted Dorian was being serious, if he truly had a problem he would have told Da’ean. Dorian tended to mask his real intentions behind his ever present scorn, Da’ean had been getting better at spotting the true questions recently. The elf wanted past the wall of sarcasm Dorian used as defense.

“I’m just curious, was that druffalo really worth my robes? I’ll never be able to get those stains out.”

Da’ean laughed, “I doubt I return any more prized druffalo.”

Dorian grinned at him, “Well that it a relief.”

They lapsed into a moment of silence, which was broken by Da’ean curiosity. “I’d like to ask about what the Imperium was like, if that’s alright.” It was what he’d wanted to ask about since Dorian had joined, his desire to ask questions never satisfied.

“Ah yes, everyone outside the Imperium always seems quite fascinated by it, what did you want to know?”

Magic first, Da’ean would need to build some courage before he asked any of the questions he really wanted answers to. “Just how often is blood magic used there?”

“Oh not at all,” Dorian waved a hand and Da’ean second guessed how well he trusted the mage. “That’s what any Magister would tell you. They’d be convincingly offended by the notion too. Of course, what people call blood magic here, and what we consider blood magic are two different things.”

Da’ean furrowed his brow, “What’s considered actual blood magic in Tevinter?”

Dorian met his gaze, “Blood magic isn’t inherently dangerous, using your blood or that of a willing participant, where’s the harm?” Da’ean could see a whole host of things that could go wrong with using a ‘willing participant’, but using their own blood he didn’t really care. “The problem is that what’s permitted only gets you so much power. And what if you need more? You always need more.” He nearly growled the last, making Da’ean wonder what encounters with blood magic Dorian himself had. “That’s where we get into sacrifices and demon summoning. None of that it done, not officially.” He shook his head, hands curling and uncurling, “Behind closed doors it’s a different story. Real blood magic can give you an edge, a leg up against your opponents. It’s safe to assume any mage of rank does it. The rest are quietly shut out of power to put it bluntly.”

If Dorian had been ‘shut out of power’ as he put it, Da’ean could see why he’d be so bitter. “You’d think the Templars would object.” If they could.

“I imagine they did, long ago. Once their investigations may have been sincere, then their balls were cut off.” Da’ean let out a small chuckle, Dorian may be pristine in all things except speech. “Nowadays only the friendless are accused, and most of them probably innocent.”

He knew the Imperium was corrupt, but this surprised even Da’ean. “There must be those who oppose this.”

“Of course. I do. And I’m not entirely alone. Occasionally there will be a magister who makes noise, and then the reform talks begin.” Dorian sighed heavily, “All very patriotic. Meanwhile that magister will be quietly shunned. Chances are, surprise surprise, it’s learned he was a maleficar all along. Most learn to keep quiet. Me? I enjoy the allure of pariah-hood.”

Personally Da’ean was very glad he enjoyed it, if Dorian had never left Tevinter, he would have been blasted out of time. Though that was not the only reason Da’ean appreciated Dorian being here.

Da’ean’s questions were burning inside of him. “Anyone who talks about the Imperium mentions slavery, it’s the center of the slave trade.”

Dorian looked away, which Da’ean knew would pass. He waited patiently for him to meet his eyes again. “Ah, that is true.”

Da’ean took a steadying breath, “Did you have slaves?”

“Not personally, my family does and treats them well.” He pauses, “Honestly I never thought much about it until I came south. Back home it’s… How it is? Slaves are everywhere, you don’t question it. I’m not certain many slaves do.”

“Well we don’t have slaves in the south.” Da’ean could feel some of his ire rising, The old pain he’d thought himself over was beginning to coil tightly in his belly.

“In the south, they have alienages, slums both human and elven. The desperate have no way out. Back home, a poor man can sell himself, as a slave he could have a position of respect, comfort, and could even support a family.”

If he was even allowed to see his family, if his master wasn’t cruel, if, if. Da’ean wrapped his arms around himself, Dorian had no idea. No one in the Inquisition did.

“Some slaves are treated poorly it’s true, but do you honestly think inescapable poverty is better?”

Da’ean couldn’t restrain himself, “Is that what you call it? Treated poorly?!”

“Abuse heaped upon those without power is not limited to Tevinter my friend.” Dorian took a deep breath, “I don’t know what it’s like to be a slave true. I never thought about it until I saw how different it was here. But I suspect you don’t know either; nor should you believe every tale of Tevinter excess is the norm.”

Da’ean stood abruptly,his world tilting on its side. The rogue lifted a hand to the jagged scar running down the lower half of left side of his face. “Your suspicions are wrong.” He hissed through clenched teeth, his body was suddenly to small to completely hold him. His skin felt tight, and his heart ached. “Fenedhis I thought you would understand not having any will to call your own.”

Dorian’s eyes went wide, “I didn’t,”

“Of course you didn’t.” Da’ean almost spat, “Who would follow someone so broken? Did you think I would just blurt it out? As if it weren’t a stain on the whole of myself?” His anger fizzled out slightly as the look on Dorian’s face, “I’ll take my leave.” He couldn't bear to look into anymore pity filled eyes, and he knew that's all he would find in Dorian's. He all but ran into the woods, leaving Dorian behind to wallow, deciding the trees would offer the most soothing company.

After he was a good a good distance away, Da’ean scrambled up to the closest decent tree. His heart was racing, Dorian's defensive attitude had brought back all the horrid memories Da’ean had buried a decade and a half ago. He curled into himself tightly, turning to lie against the tree sideways. He was not very far up, but he also didn’t particularly relish the idea of falling. He tried concentrating on the feel of the bark on his skin, but the tree’s smooth covering felt too much like the iron bars of a cage. The ragged sound of his breathing wasn't helping either; it was too much like back then, when his hands were not yet calloused, young heart not yet closed. Ashalle not yet dead.

Da’ean closed his suddenly wet eyes and let out a soft keening sound, he didn't want to think about her now, he had others to consume his thoughts. But it was too late, all he could see was her small form broken in front of him again. Her face falling from a snarl of defiant anger to shocked pain in a split second. The sword taken from her captors dropping from her hand as a red stain bloomed from the front of her shift. Da’ean felt another wet sob escape; he couldn't afford to fail anyone again.

“Boss… Boss look at me.”

Da’ean felt rough thumbs brush across his cheeks, which he realized were wet. The soft sensation was so unexpected it drove the nightmarish images from his head. Opening his eyes, Da’ean saw the massive Qunari’s face draw into a frown.

“Bull?” Oh Creators, even his voice was scratchy now, “Ir abelas, but I do not think I will be good company tonight.”

Bull’s face softened, “I know. I over heard the last of your conversation with Dorian, the Vint was pretty upset with himself for being an ass.” He fixed Da’ean with a hard stare, his hand still resting gently on Da’ean’s cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Da’ean gave a shuddering breath, “I… Not now,” he gave Bull a watery smile which felt more like a grimace, and covered Bull’s hand with one of his own. “I'll tell you later, Dorian too. I won't apologize though, not in this.”

Bull tilted his horned head, “You have nothing to apologize for. I'll leave you to your trees Boss, try not to freeze.”

Da’ean slid his eyes back shut, leaning back against the tree as Bull walked back towards the camp. The panic which had threatened to overwhelm him earlier had dissipated, leaving only a dull ache in its wake.

He knew in his heart Dorian wasn't to blame. The mage _had_ grown up with slavery as just another part of life. A small, bitter voice told him he'd also grown up with blood magic and deceit as a part of everyday life too, yet he could see the fault in those ideas. Da’ean quickly stifled that voice, he already knew it would do him no good to hate every shem he came across. The elf sighed heavily, it was going to be a long trip back to Haven.

 

When they arrived back at Haven, Cullen met him before the Chantry. “Herald, a moment in the war council?”

Da’ean raised a hand in acknowledgement, “Following.”

Cullen turned and entered the dark interior of the Chantry. “The mages and new recruits are ready. We can head over to the Breach in an hours notice.”

“The sooner the better Commander. I would rather not leave it open any longer.” He rubbed the mark on his palm, “Let's go, as soon as you can ready them.”

Cullen smiled grimly, “Of course Herald, we’ll leave in an hour.”

Da’ean mirrored his expression, “I'll meet you at the gates.”

An hour, an hour until the sky was, hopefully, fixed. Would the Inquisition even need him after the Breach and all the little rifts were closed? Dread Wolf take him but he wanted to go home. He wanted to see Idrilla again, to see Mamae and Babae again. To see Linayel and the halla Ashalle loved so. He wanted to sleep in an aravel and look out into the stars as he fell asleep.

Da’ean felt his heart soar, and just as swiftly fall. He wanted to _stay_. He wanted to see where this thing with Dorian went, if Bull would ever be more than just a comforting friend. He wanted to hear more of Solas’s knowledge, more of Varric’s tales. He wanted to gain Cassandra’s friendship, Vivienne’s respect. He wanted to learn more about Blackwall. He wanted to gossip with Josephine, to ease Leliana’s burdens, to spar with Cullen. Da’ean felt conflicted for the first time since he came to Haven. Caught up in his wandering thoughts, Da’ean took no notice of his wandering feet.

“Something troubling you?” Dorian's careful question broke through Da’ean’s musings.

“We’re going to leave to close the Breach in an hour, will you come with me?”

Dorian looked as though the lightning he was so fond of had struck him. “I was under the impression you no longer cared for my company.” His face took a sheepish turn, “The cause of which is completely mine and I do apologize for. I was out of line and I will make sure it won't happen again.”

It was Da’ean’s turn to be shocked, “You didn't do anything wrong Dorian,” he started softly, “There was no way for you to know about my past. You've lived with slaves your whole life, to you it's just another part of living.” He looked directly at Dorian, “I hold no ill will towards you lethal’lin, only towards your practices.” He placed a hand gingerly on Dorian's shoulder, “So I'll ask again, will you accompany me to close the Breach?”

Da’ean felt his throat constrict, his anger had diminished over the journey back as his more rational side had taken over.

“I… Of course Herald, I would be delighted.” Dorian's eyes held nothing but sincerity, and he gave Da’ean a small smile.

“Good, we leave soon.” He started to walk off, but turned his head over his shoulder a moment later, “Oh, and Dorian, my name is Da’ean remember?” The rogue smiled before he headed into the apothecary to drop off his elfroot.

 

Closing the Breach was less eventful than he thought it would be. The revelry in Haven seemed it would go on all night. Da’ean was wary though, it was too easy. There was no way the foreboding feeling he had was misplaced, even if he hoped it was.

A sudden alarm rang out through the night, Cullen running past him yelling out for soldiers. Da’ean raced for the gates tailing Cassandra.

“There’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.” The former Templar began, Josephine coming to stand beside him.

“Under what banner?”

“None.”

“None?”

Da’ean knew it, but before he could voice his apprehension , a loud knock came from the gate.

“I can’t come in unless you open.” Cullen and Da’ean shared a glance, before opening the large doors. A strange looking boy was outside, “I’m Cole, I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.”

The odd boy’s speech was too disjointed for Da’ean to understand, “What is this? What’s going on?”

“Templars came to kill you.”

“Templars?” Cullen interjected, “is this the order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?”

“The red templars went to the Elder One, you know him? He knows you, you took his mages.” He pointed into the distance, “There.”

Cullen’s voice shook, “I know that man, but this Elder One?”

The boy spoke again, “He’s very angry you took his mages.”

Da’ean turned to Cullen, the one with the most true battle experience. “Cullen give me a plan, anything.”

Cullen folded his arms, “Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force, use everything you can.” He rallied the mages and recruits behind them. Da’ean ran ahead to the nearest trebuchet, followed by Bull and Dorian and Sera.

They fought wave after wave of Templars. Picking up a score of injuries each, though nothing a healing potion couldn't handle. Not yet anyway. After they fired the second trebuchet a cheer went out through the crowd. Until the sound of a dragon’s call stole the very breath from their lungs.

Da’ean turned back to the main village, meeting Cullen after helping Harrit into the forge. The fought all the red templars they came across, rescuing several people in the process before they made it inside the chantry. A severely injured Roderic was being supported by Cole inside, but Da’ean didn't have time to think about it as Cullen beckoned him over.

“Herald! Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I've seen an Archdemon, I was in the Fade but it looked like that.” Cole informed Da’ean to his utmost despair.

“I don't care what it looks like, it cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven.”

“The Elder One doesn't care about the village, he only wants the Herald. No one else matters but he'll crush them, kill them anyway. I don't like him.” He finishes quietly.

“You don't like?” Cullen fidgets impatiently, and looked at Da’ean. “ Herald there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could use the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

Da’ean understood that look on Cullen’s face, the one that said ‘I may be dying but so are you’. “We’re overrun, to hit the enemy we’d bury Haven.”

“We’re dying, but we can decide how. Not many get that chance.”

Cole was murmuring to the Chancellor in the corner, who started speaking in a raspy voice. “There is a path, you wouldn't know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage, as I have.” He rocked forward, “The people can escape, she must have shown me, Andraste must have shown me so I could… Tell you.”

Da’ean turned, “What about it Cullen, will it work?”

“Possibly, if he shows us the path. But what of your escape?”

Da’ean’s silence was the only answer he had to give, he didn't particularly relish the idea of dying to save a bunch of shems, but if anyone had a chance to fix all of this it was the good people of the Inquisition who had the lion's share.

“Perhaps you will surprise it.” Cullen walked away, giving orders to the rest of the refugees.

“Herald, if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.” Roderic left with Cole supporting most of his weight.

Cullen came back to give Da’ean some last minute advice about the fight, and about how to survive. Da’ean just nodded and left the chantry.

“If you think I'm going to let you run off and save the world alone, you'd be very wrong.” Dorian's cheerful tone was at odds with the tightness of his hand on Da’ean’s shoulder.

“What are you saying? Go back with them, stay safe with the others.” Da’ean’s heart was fluttering madly in his chest. Worry and fear knitting tightly in his gut. But it was mixing with a feeling of lightness, Dorian cared.

“He’s right Boss. Who’s going to aim the trebuchet while you're fighting an entire army?” Bull’s words made him think, he hasn't even thought about that, yet.

“I can’t let you die with me.” Da’ean’s heart was racing, “No one is dying when I can prevent it again.”

“Shut it, save the talks for the nobles yea? We’re coming.”

Sera’s trembling hold on her bow gave her away, but Da’ean couldn’t fault her for it, he was terrified too. “Alright, but if I tell you to run you do it, and you don’t look back.”

“Of course Boss.” The Qunari raised his axe, “Let’s go kick some demon ass.”

They tore through the templars ranks, making their way to the trebuchet. Da’ean was deeply glad to have them fighting by his side when they finally did arrive, there would have been no way for him to have made it even this far without them.

The final assault on the trebuchet was led by a monstrous red templar so consumed by the red lyrium it was growing out of his skin. No, the lyrium was it’s skin! The behemoth took several minutes with all four of them focused solely on it, yet it was still, vaguely, human. And it died like any mortal, falling to the ground with an earth-shattering crash. Da’ean finished aiming the trebuchet, and immediately the dragon bore down on them.

“Run! Now!” Da’ean screamed at his party, who followed his orders, though Bull and Dorian were obviously reluctant.

A wall of cursed fire cut them off from Da’ean’s line of sight, blasting him off his feet. A mangled form appeared out from behind the dragon. “Enough” it issued from his mouth. “Pretender you toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.” The creature’s voice was rough, like rocks sliding down a cliff.

His appearance and speech gave no hints as to what he could be so Da’ean asked. “What are you? Why are you doing this?”

“Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what I was.” Nothing it said was making any sense, Da’ean couldn’t understand anything about it. “Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the will that is Corypheus. You will kneel.”

Da’ean’s confusion just kept growing, “Why are you here? You haven’t even asked for anything?”

“I ask for nothing because it is not in your power to give. But that will not stop me.” An orb materialized in his hand, “I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now.”

Da’ean’s hand erupted into pain, causing him to grip his forearm tightly.

“It is your fault Herald, you interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying you stole it’s purpose.” Corypheus thrust out his hand again, increasing the pain of the ‘Anchor’ tenfold, enough for Da’ean to cry out. “I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as touched. What you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.” He closed a fist and the Anchor caught fire in his veins, light spilling out of it and driving him to his knees. “And you used the Anchor to undo my work. The gall.”

“What is this thing meant to do?” Da’ean forced out.

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none, for you, the certainty I would always come for it.” Da’ean really shouldn’t have expected a clear answer, for he suddenly found himself being lifted into the air by a massive fist, “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused, no more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this Blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the Maker and it was empty.” He threw Da’ean into the trebuchet and Da’ean felt at least two of his ribs break from the force of the impact. “The Anchor is permanent. You have spoilt it with your stumbling.”

Da’ean spotted an abandoned greatsword lying in the snow, not his favorite weapon, but anything between him and that monster was good to him. The dragon and Corypheus loomed together in front of him. “So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation, and god, it requires.” Out of the corner of his eye Da’ean saw Cullen’s signal flare. They had made it, they were safe and Da’ean’s duty was done. “And you, I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

Da’ean found the trebuchets firing mechanism, and his courage, again. “You expect us to surrender and kneel, we will not. You’ll face us all, when we choose.” Da’ean kicked the latch, firing the shot into the mountainside and didn’t look back as he ran. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid the avalanche he found.

It roared around him, transforming his world into one of billowing white. Stumbling, he fell into a hidden pit and felt darkness swallow his vision.

 

 

Dorian could hear the thunder of the avalanche as he escaped with the others. His chest was aching, the herald, no _Da’ean_ , was stuck in the middle of snowfall with a Maker-damned Archdemon breathing down his neck. And where was Dorian? He was running away like a coward. Of course he knew there was nothing he could have done, and his presence would only have made Da’ean hesitate to send the mountain down on the both of them.

The fool elf was risking his life to save people he’d known only a few months. It was madness. Yet, Dorian couldn’t help but to find it as the bravest thing he’d ever seen anyone do. He didn’t dare look too closely at the feeling bubbling up at the thought of Da’ean. It was dangerous, and all too familiar. He tried only thinking about the surving the next few days, straying close to the Qunari that was guarding their retreat.

“Don’t think about it, not yet.” Bull placed one of his large hands on Dorian’s shoulder, giving him something else to focus on.

Dorian smiled weakly. “I’m not sure there’s anything else to think about at the moment.” He was being maudlin and he knew it. He just couldn’t quite help himself, Da’ean had been a steady presence at his side for a week and being cut off from him so abruptly was disquieting.

Bull fastened his gaze onto Dorian. “Both of us are still alive, Sera is running off ahead of us, and the rest of the Inquisition isn’t even a mile beyond her. Think about making it back to them.”

 

Dorian patted Bull’s hand, “I’ll keep it in mind.” Dorian steeled himself against his more caustic thoughts and continued. And if he was considerably closer to Bull than was strictly necessary; well no one else had to know.

 

 

 

A throbbing pain in Da’ean’s ribs was the first thing he was aware of. He definitely had _something_ broken in there. Gingerly the elf stood, and immediately almost fell again; his ankle was screaming at him and was swollen to twice its’ normal size. Da’ean gritted his teeth, he’d have to walk on it, there was nothing for him to build a splint with. He inspected what he could of the dark cave he found himself in. If Mythal was merciful the cave would lead out to the rest of the Inquisition. Da’ean doubted he would be so lucky.

As quickly as his broken body would allow Da’ean hobbled his way through the dim passageway. Within minutes he stumbled upon a group of demons. Guess his luck had run out, there was no way for him to fight. His daggers were gone, his ribs were on fire, and he couldn’t so much as step forward without cringing. Da’ean steeled himself, he would just have to run through the chamber and pray the demons wouldn’t follow him.

He took a step forward but before he could break into his sprint the Anchor on his hand erupted. Green fire exploded into being around the demons, destroying them almost instantaneously. Well, that was most convenient. Da’ean held his hand in front of him, if he could summon that kind of destructive force on command, battling red Templars would get infinitely easier.

Da’ean continued down the cave, it didn’t seem to end. Going on and on for what felt like miles, Da’ean knew it was probably a short, and fairly easy, passage and that the only reason he felt like he was taking so long were his injuries. It didn’t make the journey any more comfortable, just increased his fear of not being found.

Eventually, he came to an opening in the rock face, light spilling out from it. Shielding his sensitive eyes with a hand, Da’ean walked out into the open sky.

 

Cold, it was so cold. Da'ean had been slogging through knee deep snow for hours. He couldn’t even hobble anymore. His legs refused to move with any coordination, he fell more often than not.

Da’ean was frightened, if no one found him soon he had the distinct possibility of giving in to the dangerous sleepy feeling that was slowly creeping along his limbs. He tripped again, landing face first in the snow. It would be so easy, to just close his eyes and let the shems deal with the rest of their problems. He tried moving around, flapping his arms through the powdery snow, he succeeded in only touching his hand against something hot. Da’ean recoiled from it immediately.

Wait, hot? With monumental effort, Da’ean raised himself up to his knees. Embers, he’d stumbled across a campfire and it would have had to be recent for it to have burned his fingers slightly. Da’ean summoned his remaining strength and pushed himself forward, almost crawling now. They had to be close, he would not let that monster be the end of him.

“It’s him! Oh, thank the Maker.” Cassandra’s voice cut through the fog in Da’ean’s mind. They’d found him, he smiled as he let the darkness claim him again.

 

Relief washed through the Iron Bull as he heard Cassandra’s shout. The good feeling settling in his belly diminished when he saw Lavellan’s prone form in the snow. He rushed to the elf and gingerly gathered him into his arms.

“He’s been out here for too long, alert the healers. He’ll need their attention.” Bull felt a painful twinge in his heart. This fierce little redheaded rogue had fought desperately for a cause that initially wanted to kill him. Bull respected that, he could follow that. He led Cullen and Cassandra back into the area they had decided to call camp. Immediately upon their arrival healers swarmed about, directing Bull to place Lavellan inside a nearby tent. As soon as he’d laid the elf down he was bustled out.

Knowing he’d only get in the way if he stayed, Bull let them do so without any qualms. He headed back to the fire where he’d seen Dorian sitting, alone. “He’s alive you know.”

Dorian startled, then glanced at Bull. “I’ll have you know there are many more interesting things to occupy my mind than a single elf.” The slight tremble in Dorian’s voice was more than enough to tell Bull what the mage was currently fretting about.

“It’s also not your fault.” Bull sat down next to Dorian, and laid a hand on his knee. “He told us to run and we did. The rest was up to him. He’s fiery, he’ll be alright.”

Surprising the Qunari, Dorian leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder. “I hope so.” He whispered.

 

Da’ean woke to the sound of angry voices. They must have been yelling for hours to sound so hoarse. Da’ean was tired, and he wanted nothing to do with their arguments. He sat up anyway and spotted Mother Giselle out of the corner of his eye. The revered mother started in as soon as she saw the glow of his open eyes, asking him questions he’d rather not answer. If he’d been chosen it would have been by one of _his_ gods, not the Andraste the shems worshipped. He told her as much and staggered his way over to the inner circle.

Mother Giselle emerged to stand beside him when the talks lulled. She sang, softly at first but with increasing volume. Leliana joined her for the second verse and soon the whole camp was ringing with it. Obviously Andrastian, it made Da’ean’s skin crawl. This was not what he was here for, having a village’s worth of humans kneeling to him would not end well for an elf.

As the song ended Solas took him by the arm and led him away from the others. He told Da’ean of the orbs origins, and of a new place the Inquisition could call home: Skyhold.


	3. Elvhen Plains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Da'ean has some heartfelt experiences in the Plains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a thing for elves not being able to express themselves at all in game, so I'm changing that.

A week was apparently not enough time to get used to the title of Inquisitor. It still made Da’ean slightly uncomfortable, but if this could help, Da’ean would take it in stride. Or, at least he hoped he could. He was still in the middle of learning the more formal Common the nobles used in all of their correspondences. Requests for aid always came in more flowery than necessary and Da’ean prefered not to make a fool of himself.

Josephine had been coaching him, it wasn’t as natural or as clean as his native Elvhen, but it was getting there. Josephine had told him he was a quick learner, and would be able to read his own letters without a cheat sheet soon enough. He liked Josephine, she was kind and didn’t laugh at him when he said the wrong thing.

Da’ean sighed as he shuffled some of the more recent reports he’d been given. He should be giving them his entire attention, but it was wandering. His thoughts were turning more towards those in the castle than those outside. It was unnerving for him, a Dalish elf, to be in charge of so many people. To be in charge of _humans_ , and not be hunted down for it, it was remarkable.

Da’ean placed the unread reports on the desk in the corner of his quarters. Yet another thing he still needed to adjust to. The room was just so large, unlike anything Da’ean was used to. He’d taken to keeping all of his windows open, the chilly mountain air comforting to him. Da’ean walked out onto one of the balconies, ran his hand along the rough stone wall. They would be safe here, he could protect people here.

A brisk breeze curled around him, and Da’ean’s thoughts turned inwards. Da’ean had noticed the demeanor of his innermost companions toward him had changed, Dorian’s being the most obvious. He’d been secluded in his little alcove in the library, supposedly enchanted by the selection. While Da'ean thought it might be partially true, he couldn’t help but wonder if Dorian was avoiding him. He wanted to ask the mage if he would accompany him out to the Exalted Plains the day following the next, they’d been receiving odd reports and requests for aid from the area and Da’ean wanted to do all he could for the war-torn area. The news about a Dalish clan in the area had been what excited him most.

Da’ean made his way to the library, nearly running into Vivienne on accident when he turned the wrong corner. Dorian was shelving books as Da’ean neared him.

“Brilliant isn't it? One moment you're trying to restore order in a world gone mad. That should be enough for anyone to handle yes?” The mage glanced at him over his shoulder, the dusty light making his eyes shine like brushed gold. “Then out of nowhere an Archdemon appears and kicks you in the head, ‘What you thought this would be easy?’” Dorian shelves his last book with a little more force than Da’ean thinks is necessary, his long graceful fingers curling around the spine. Da’ean spared a thought as to where else they could curl and stopped that train of thought hurriedly. “‘No I was just hoping you wouldn't crush our village like an anthill. Sorry about that, demons like to crush you know. Can't be helped.’” He turned back to face Da’ean, “Am I speaking to quickly for you?”

Da’ean spluttered about for a reply, “I was… distracted. That's all.”

“Distracted by my wit and charm, I have plenty of both.”

Da’ean grinned, “Today at least.”

“Oh you wound me,” Dorian feinted affront before moving on. “I always assumed the Elder One behind the Venatori was a Magister, but this is something else completely.” He shook his head, “In Tevinter, they say the Chantry’s tales of Magisters starting the Blights are just that; tales. But here we are, one of those very Magisters. A darkspawn.”

The turbulence in Dorian's eyes was not something Da'ean wanted to see, but he needed to understand it to make it go away. “Why does that make you angry?”

“Because the Imperium is my home. I knew what I had been taught couldn't be the whole truth, but I assumed there had to be a kernel of it, somewhere.” Dorian's face fell, the weight of his words settling on his shoulders. “But no, it was us all along.” Da’ean reached out, closing the space between them. He took Dorian's hand in his own, gently running his fingers over Dorian's knuckles. The mage smiled softly at their joined hands.

“That was a thousand years ago Dorian, not you.” Da’ean said softly, he didn't want Dorian to beat himself up over something he has no control over. The man always looked for a way to help, a way to blame himself for things going wrong. Dorian was one of the kindest humans Da’ean had ever met, if there was a way to keep the mage from self destructing Da’ean would see it done.

“I have idiot countrymen who would happily follow him down that path again remember.” Dorian meet Da’ean’s wandering gaze, “No one will thank me whatever happens. No one will thank you either, you know that, yes?”

Most assuredly did he know, elves were the human’s favorite scapegoat when things went sour after all. “That's not why I'm doing this.”

“I knew there was something clever about you.” Dorian’s smile faded, “All I know is this, Corypheus needs to be stopped. Men like him ruined my homeland. I won't let him ruin the world.” Dorian made to drop their hands, but Da’ean squeezed. “Actually I came to ask if you would be willing to go to the Exalted Plains with me, if you're not busy that is.” Da’ean knew his eyes were a bit too hopeful to pass as simply friendly, all of their flirting had left him a tad flustered.

“Charming name. I am, of course, horrendously busy.” Da’ean felt his face crumple and he dropped Dorian's hand, “but a change of pace would be lovely.” Dorian wrapped their fingers together again, and brought them quickly to his lips where he lingered a moment. Da’ean felt his whole body flush, and he knew his ears were twitching. Dorian grinned, “And when do we plan to leave for these plains?”

“The day after next.” Da’ean cleared his throat, the heat in his face making speech difficult. “I'm glad you'll be able to spare the time.”

“Oh for you Inquisitor, anything.” The mage winked and let their entwined hands fall. “Run along now, I'm sure I'm not the only busy one.”

Da’ean smiled warmly before exiting the library again. He'd need to talk to Bull as well and he'd already asked Solas. Last time he'd seen the Qunari was out by the tavern.

“Hey Boss,” Bull greeted as Da’ean walked over. “I've got something to show you.”

“What is it?” His curiosity piqued.

“Here come on.” Bull brought Da’ean out into the courtyard, and shared a drink with two of his soldiers. Da’ean felt as though he was connecting to those he was protecting for the first time. He enjoyed hearing their opinions of him, even though he didn't want to be an idol.

“Thank you Bull, this was good.”

“Good for them too,” He patted Da’ean’s shoulder with one of his massive hands. “You've got a good head on your shoulders too, don't get lost in there.”

“I've got enough to ground me.” Da’ean smiled, “I was wondering though, would you be able to accompany me to the Exalted Plains? I'll need someone to guard my back and quite frankly Cassandra still scares me a little.”

Bull laughed, deep and hard. “Sure thing Boss, that's the trip the day after tomorrow right?”

“Yes, we're leaving at first light.*

“I'll be there.” The Qunari chuckled again, “Scared of Cassandra huh?”

Da’ean grinned, “Oh yes quite. Her taste in literature is simply terrifying.”

Bull’s answering grin was lopsided, “I won't tell Varric you said that Boss.”

“I'll need to be going, I'll see you later Bull.”

“Later Boss.”

Da’ean left Bull still smiling, the lightness in his heart was something he didn't think he would be able to get used to.

 

 

 

The Exalted Plains turned out to be a nightmare. A whole three days spent doing nothing save fight corpses. It was enough to drive Da’ean mad, the shems could figure out the answers by themselves if they kept calling him ‘rabbit’. The smell from the fires burning in the body pits churned his stomach as well. Thank Mythal this was their last night with the garrison. Da’ean wanted nothing more to do with these rising dead and now that they've put a permanent end to the sea of corpses they could go where Da’ean wanted to most.

The Dalish clan they'd been told about was camping near the river. The idea of being among the People again was honestly the only real reason he'd stayed in the Plains. And the following morning they would be setting out for them.

Da’ean tossed about in his bedroll; the fur lined insides were soft and warm, but Da’ean was restless.

“You are positively writhing over there. Something on your mind?” Dorian's voice was low and slurred with sleep.

Da’ean felt slightly guilty for waking him at this hour when they needed to be up so early. “No lethal’lin. It's nothing, just… Nerves I guess.” As soon as he admitted to it, Da’ean could feel the anxiety eating away at his insides. What if he wasn't good enough for them, if he was too tainted by the shems he was leading?

“I've been meaning to ask, what does that word mean? You've called me by that a few times before.” Dorian still sounded soft, but it was no longer the soft of sleep. It was the soft that comes from isolated nights and safe places and people close to one another.

Da’ean laughed lightly, “Lethal'lin? It means I claim you as clan. That I hold you dear to me.” Da’ean felt his face flush, he'd yet to say anything so direct to Dorian. The way Dorian's face lit up made it worth the slight embarrassment.

“You would claim me as a clan? I thought your clan was special.”

Da’ean could hear the confusion in Dorian's tone and it bothered him to think Dorian believed himself unimportant. “Of course they're special. I hold my clan with high regard.” He rolled over to face Dorian, to make sure the mage knew he was being serious. “I hold you with the same regard.”

“Really? I… I had no idea.” Da’ean could hear Dorian's heart in his throat, and he wanted to rip apart everything that had made him feel unwanted. Dorian turned over to face the tent wall. “Well, I shall try to go back to sleep. Good night.”

Da’ean smiled and he let it show in his voice, “Good night Lethal'lin.” Da’ean would try for sleep, it would do him absolutely no good to greet the clan with an exhausted brain.

They set out shortly after dawn, a meager breakfast of field rations their only pause. It took them less than an hour to ride to the camp. Da’ean almost leapt off his hart in his haste to arrive. The aravels he could see were in desperate need of repair and the scrunched, worried looks on the few of the clan he could see pulled at his heart.

“Andaran A’tishan da’len.” An older elf greeted and the words immediately lifted a weight Da’ean hadn't noticed he'd been carrying.

“Ma'serannas Hahren,” Da’ean replied, his native language sliding smoothly from his tongue.

“ _I'm Keeper Hawen, and you must be the Inquisitor. It's good to see one of the People so exalted by humans.”_ Da’ean felt his heart swell, the praise of a Keeper was not given lightly. “ _I cannot, however, trust you just yet._ ” Da’ean’s face crumpled, the joy in him fading to grey.

“ _Can I prove myself to you Keeper? I wish to be worthy of the People._ ” It was what he'd been fearing the night before, Da’ean didn't wish to be separated from his people, he wanted to hold as tightly as he could to his heritage.

“ _If you could da’len there is a burial site for our people north of here. It has been overrun by demons. Please if you truly wish to prove yourself, clear it out._ ” The snowy-haired elf sighed in agitation. “ _Normally I would send my First, but he decided to ignore me and set out for the Emerald Graves. Our aravels are in desperate need of repairs as well._ ”

Da’ean knew what it meant for the Keeper to be asking for help. The Dalish were a proud people, they wouldn't ask for anything unless it was a truly dire need. “I _'ll do what I can Hahren._ ”

Da’ean walked about the center of the camp. The elf in charge of their supplies handed him a ledger and asked him if there was anything they could spare. Da’ean filled the list with everything except their bedrolls. It was easy for him to restock at the next camp, but this clan was on the point of no return.

Dorian strolled over to him, “I, for one, cannot speak Elvhen. What did he say earlier, the one you were talking to?”

Da’ean glanced at him over a shoulder. “There are demons infesting one of our ancient burial grounds. I'm going to eradicate them.” Da’ean lowered his eyes but Dorian lifted his head with the soft pad of a finger to meet look at him softly.

“That can't be all he said.” His eyes were supportive, welcoming, everything the Keeper hadn't been.

“Later, please.” Da’ean knew his voice was trembling slightly, he couldn't help it. He knew, or rather he thought he knew, the clan wouldn't be able to accept him on sight. Elves who played at being human weren't to be trusted. They were like snakes waiting in a garden.

He knew this when he'd heard about them, but it still hurt. Fenedhis, it felt like an open knife wound in his heart. He wanted to represent the People in a way that could build them back up again. It was absolutely worthless though if they didn't _trust_ him.

Da’ean completed his walk around the camp, agreeing to do all the things requested of him. The Hanal’Ghilan had captured most of his attention however. What he wouldn't give to have been able to have shown her to Ashalle. Da’ean decided to corral her first. It would be an easy task to accomplish and the longer she was out there the more danger she was in.

“I thought you said we wouldn't be returning anymore prized pets.” Dorian's teasing tone hit a little too close to Da’ean’s bruised heart for comfort.

“Halla are not pets Dorian. They're sacred to me and my people.” Da’ean caught Dorian's eyes, “They mean quite a lot to all elves but to me they hold special meaning.” Da’ean walked away quickly, he didn't want to fight with Dorian over this. Thankfully, the mage was silent while they chased the halla back to camp.

After the Halla’amelan had profusely thanked them, the party made their way to the burial grounds. The Keeper had been right in not going alone, the entire place was running rampant with demons. It made Da’ean sick to his stomach to see them slinking about where his people laid rest. The whole of the Plains did it, the humans dedicating over all the elven ruins they could find.

Anger twisted its way into Da’ean’s gut. It needed to end. All he could do now was to clear this grave. A task he completed with a bestial joy.

When the site was clear of demons Da’ean chose to go look for one of the clan's missing. His sister had told the group where he was headed and the dread feeling in Da’ean’s belly told him it wouldn't be too far from where they would find him.

They found the boy a few hours later, young enough for his vallaslin to still be fresh on his face. It seemed he'd unknowingly been trying to summon a demon to learn more about their history, to help his clan.

Da’ean gathered some of his things, and sent a prayer to Falon’Din to guide the boy. He felt no small amount of pity for the young elf, he'd just wanted to help. It wasn't a good thing he had done by any means, it was foolhardy and reckless. He should have listened to his Keeper, maybe then he could have survived.

Da’ean wiped his hands on the leather covering his thighs. It wouldn't do to stain the young mages possessions anymore than they already were.

“You doing okay Boss?”

Da’ean jumped, he'd been so preoccupied he hasn't even noticed the Bull sneaking up on him, Dorian and Solas already making their way back to the Dalish campsite. “Fine Bull, I'm fine.” Da’ean sighed heavily as Bull’s gaze swept over him. “Alright maybe not completely fine.”

Da’ean gestured to the body of the young elf. “He was only trying to help. Our people are dying out. Not only do the shems kill us, they drive us from our homes and from our heritage.” Da’ean meet Bull’s eyes for a brief moment; the Qunari had faced monstrous brutality, but he'd always been secure in his people. In their continued survival.

Clan Lavellan, out of necessity, was constantly aware of how fragile their position was. Sure, they traded with humans on occasion. Those humans always got the better deal, they had to. No one would miss a knife eared trader who drove a hard bargain.

“I can't blame him for trying can I?” Da’ean could feel his heart in his eyes as he finally found the strength to lift his head and meet Bull’s stare.

“You think you're not trying?”

Da’ean froze, the Ben-Hassrath wasn't stupid, and his piercing question cut straight through Da’ean’s defenses. “I..” Da’ean faltered, “I could be, _should_ be doing more.” Bull stayed silent, gently placing a calloused hand on the back of Da’ean’s neck and squeezing. “I should be helping the clans. There's so much knowledge we've lost, I could recover it, bring it back. The slaves in the Imperium, I should be cutting off the slavers supply routes, making sure that no one suffers. Those in the alienages, if they wanted they could overthrow the humans that have done nothing save treat them to horrors.”

Da’ean huffed a bitter laugh, his voice raspy with unshed tears. “I'm running away from my people because I'm afraid of what will happen to them if we fight back.” The admission burned it’s way out of his throat. Da’ean shut his eyes, ashamed of himself.

“You're right.” Bull swept a thumb across the base of Da’ean’s skull. It was a soothing motion, smoothing the more jagged edges of his thoughts. “On both accounts. You probably could help the clans that need it, save some old histories. But if you do, you'll have mobs going after them.” Bull twisted Da’ean around, and tilted his head up by holding it in his hands. “You can't help now without starting a genocide: so wait. Store up what you have and give it to your people when you have the power to protect them.

Da’ean didn't think he'd ever heard Bull say so much all at once. He leaned forward, and rested his forehead against Bull’s chest. “Ma’serannas ma’isenatha.”

“Is this another tree thing?”

Da’ean laughed, bright and clear. The heavy mood lifting like a fog. “No, you ass. I said thank you.”

Bull chuckled as Da’ean led them over to where Dorian and Solas had stopped to wait for them. “We should return these to the boy’s sister.” Da’ean held up the possessions he'd gathered.

“Of course.” Solas’s tone held little room to doubt he wanted to spend as little time with the Dalish clan as he could.

Dorian just smiled at him, “Let's get going then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma'seranas ma'isenatha- Thank you, my dragon.  
> Andaran A'tishan da'len- elven greeting, literally 'enter this place of peace in which i dwell', plus the name given to younger members of elven society.  
> hahren- older/wiser/elder  
> hanal'ghilan-special halla, respected/revered in lore as a guide sent by ghilan'nain to the dalish in times of need  
> halla'amelan-herder/shepherd/guider of halla  
> Next few chapters will be fairly Dorian centric, but don't worry. Bull gets all of their love after.


	4. Blood Does Not A Family Make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Da'ean takes Dorian to meet with his father, and clarifies his feelings.

When they returned to Skyhold later in the week, Mother Giselle waylaid Da'ean on his way to talk with Solas.

“My lord Inquisitor,” she began, and Da’ean bristled. If there was anything he hated above all else it was the titles of lord and worship. “I have news regarding one of your companions. The Tevinter.” The way she said Tevinter, as if it something that could taint, was not something that endeared her to Da’ean.

He liked Mother Giselle, for the most part. She embodied most of the good the Chantry could provide. His only problem with her was her constant referral of him with Andraste, and that he could sort of understand. Even if he didn't appreciate it.

“Is that a hint of distaste I detect Mother?”

The Revered Mother had the decency to look chagrined. “I apologize. His presence here makes me uncomfortable I admit. But that is not your concern. I have been in contact with his family, House Pavus out of Qarinus. Are you familiar with them?”

Da’ean was familiar enough with Dorian's long winded ranting on the subject at any rate. If Dorian's family was contacting the Revered Mother instead of their son, something unsavory was going on. “Why exactly would you be contacting Dorian's family?”

“I didn't contact them Inquisitor. They contacted me.” Mother Giselle confirmed his suspicions without a second thought. House Pavus, from what Dorian had told him, wouldn't be doing this out of the goodness of their hearts. “The family sent a letter, describing their estrangement from their son and pleading for my aid.”

Da’ean scoffed inwardly, nothing was adding up to paint a pleasant picture. “They've asked to arrange a meeting. Quietly, without telling him. They fear it's the only way he’ll come. Since you seemed to be on such good terms with the young man, I'd hoped…”

“If you think I'm going to trick Dorian into meeting his family…” Da’ean trailed off, his outrage bleeding into his voice.

Mother Giselle only sighed, “I feared you might say that. The family will send a retainer to meet the young man at the Redcliffe tavern to take him onward. If he truly doesn't wish this reunion he can always end the matter there.” She clasped her hands in front of her, “I shall pray for your success. And the young man's happiness. That's all we can hope for is it not?”

Da’ean did not appreciate the way the Revered Mother avoided saying Dorian's name. Like she didn't want to dirty herself, as if his very name was enough to sully her pristine robes. Da’ean walked away from her fuming, taking the letter as he did so. There was no way he would ever lie to Dorian. He stopped himself on the stairs, it would be no good to either of them if they both went into this angry. Dorian could be the only one to show anger in this, Da’ean must be calm. A steadying, reassuring presence for Dorian. He took a deep breath, stilled the anger growing in him, and finished the short walk up the stairs.

Dorian was waiting for him, draped against one of his precious bookshelves. “I could watch you roam Skyhold all day.” Oh? Dorian was in that sort of mood was he? Da'ean could work with such a mood. “Here and there you run, checking in on all your followers. Why don't they come to you? Feed you grapes, rub your shoulders?” Da’ean felt heat crawl its way up his body at the idea of Dorian straddling him, the mages hands not the only skin on skin between them. “I suppose it's more fun this way. For me I mean, you're rather strapping.”

Da’ean gave Dorian a rather lopsided smile, “I've noticed you're rather strapping yourself.”

“Of course you have, that only takes eyes.” What a peacock, Da’ean wanted to hold him down and tell him he was beautiful, make him believe it.

“Luckily I have those.”

Dorian chuckled, “You do. A rather fetching pair. At any rate, you didn't pass by to hear me fawn. Something on your mind?”

Oh right, the letter. Da’ean found he didn't want to pop the pleasant bubble they currently found themselves in. But Dorian needed to know. “There's a letter you need to see.”

“A letter? Is it a naughty letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan dowager?”

“Not quite.” Da’ean softened his voice, “It's from your father.”

Dorian's face fell and his voice came out in a monotone. “From my father. I see. And what does Magister Halward want pray tell?”

“A meeting.” Da’ean couldn't meet Dorian's searching gaze.

“Show me this letter.”

Da’ean held it out, and Dorian snatched it from him as he paced towards the window. He looked it over briefly. “I know my son?! What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble. This is so typical.” Dorian was pacing back and forth, his agitation palpable. “I'm willing to bet this retainer is a henchman hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter.”

Da’ean’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. “He'd have to go through me first.”

Dorian just looked at him oddly for a long moment, and signed out of his nose. “Let's go. Let's meet this so called family retainer. If it's a trap we escape and kill everyone. You're good at that.” Da’ean winced. “If not, I send the man back to my father with the message he can stick his alarm in his wits end.”

Dorian seemed upset by this, to a degree Da'ean had not been expecting, and the elf was confused. Why exactly had Dorian left? Dorian had never told him outright, and skated around the subject every time Da'ean tried to ask. “There seems to be bad blood between you and your family.”

Dorian just chuckled darkly. “Interesting turn of phrase. But you're correct, they don't care for my choices nor I for theirs.”

“Because you wouldn't get married? Because you left?” If that was all it took to break apart human families, it was a wonder they'd survived at all.

“That too.” Dorian's tone was harsh.

“Let's go then.”

“I wonder how much my father paid this man to wait around just in case I showed.” He sighed. “We'll find out soon enough.”

“Would you like to bring Bull and Cole along with us? Just in case?” Da’ean didn't want to be outnumbered, in the event this retainer had friends. Da’ean secretly thought Dorian could also use some support and both Cole and Bull would be able to provide it.

Dorian thought it over for a second. “Yes, please bring them. But I want to go in to talk with only you.”

Fair's fair Da’ean mused. “Alright, we can set out immediately if you want.”

“More than anything.” Dorian's voice held a hard edge to it. Da’ean worries about it, whatever Dorian's father had done, it had caused the kind hearted mage to close his heart to him.

 

Dorian was quiet the whole of the journey to Redcliffe, something which was incredibly unnerving for Da'ean, he'd become accustomed to Dorians' endless chatter, and the silence he showed now was no small change. The moment they arrived, Dorian shrunk; keeping his head slightly bowed and shoulders hunched.

 

 

The silence which met them as they entered the tavern could not mean anything good. Dorian turned around in a circle, taking the dusty room in. Da’ean watched him, wary for any unseen attackers.

“Nobody's here. This doesn't bode well.” Dorian sounded let down, and Da’ean started to cross the distance between them when a deep voice sounded from a corner.

“Dorian.”

Dorian whirled around, “Father.”

Da’ean stared hard at the man. He resembled Dorian in stature only. Dorian's father's eyes were cold, they held none of the warmth and emotion which Da'ean could always find swirling in Dorian's. “So the whole story about the family retainer was just… what? A smoke screen?” The pain in Dorian's voice was hiding just below the surface. Da’ean wanted desperately to comfort him, but he knew it wouldn't be appreciated, not yet anyway.

Halward stepped closer, “Then you were told.” He turned from his son to address Da’ean. “I apologize for the deception Inquisitor. I never meant for you to be involved.”

Dorian and Da’ean bristled simultaneously, the former hardening his tone. “Of course not. Magister Pavus couldn't come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor. What would people think?” Dorian shifted from foot to foot, irritation coming off him in waves. “What exactly is this Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?” Dorian spat the last and Da’ean took a step towards him.

The Magister sighed and shook his head. “This is how it has always been.” Once again he was addressing Da’ean, ignoring the son he had brought out here under the guise of talk. Da’ean’s anger bubbled inside him. This was unacceptable, Halward was treating Dorian as if he were furniture; something to be brought out and admired, never looked at with compassion, never touched saved to be cleaned. Not even human, but less. No, Da'ean would change that himself.

“You went through all of this to get Dorian here. Talk to him.” His outrage at Dorian's treatment must have been heard because Dorian glanced back at him with an odd look in his eyes.

“Yes Father, talk to me. Let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.”

“Dorian there is no need to…”

Dorian interrupted him, facing Da’ean again. “I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.”

Da’ean’s heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. Did he mean…? “I'll need you to explain that.”

Dorian's eyes dimmed, “Did I stutter? Men, and the company thereof. As in sex, surely you've heard of it.”

Da’ean smiled, trying to drain some of the tension from Dorian's shoulders. “I've more than heard of it actually.” It seemed to help a little, as some of the light returned to Dorian's eyes.

“No? The Herald of Andraste? I am shocked and scandalized.”

“Such sarcasm.” Da’ean’s smiled slid into a grin.

“You're not exactly subtle, oh Lord Inquisitor.” Dorian's smile returned to his face for the first time since he'd read his father's letter. It made Da’ean’s heart flutter, and he tried to dampen the feeling down, now was not the time for such things.

Halward brought their attention back to him by clearing his throat. “I should have known that's what this was about.”

Dorian's anger boiled over into his voice. “No. You don't get to make those assumptions. You know nothing about the Inquisitor.”

“This is not what I wanted.” Halward’s tone was as hard as iron and just as sharp.

“I'm never what you wanted Father. Or have you forgotten?” The rest of the sentence lay heavily in the air, the tension from earlier resettling on Dorian.

“That's a big concern in Tevinter then?” Da’ean couldn't imagine such a meaningless thing coming between him and his family. Humans had the strangest things set them apart.

“Only if you're trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader.” Dorian look a deep breath, and wrapped an arm around himself. “It means every perceived flaw, every… aberration is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden.”

“So that's what all this is about? Who you sleep with?”

“That's not all it’s about.”

Halward tried breaking in again, “Dorian please, if you’ll only listen to me.” His overly pleading tone set Dorian off.

“Why? So you can spout more convenient lies? He taught me to hate blood magic.” Dorian's voice was beginning to crack and it was doing terrible things to Da’ean’s heart. “The resort of the weak mind. Those are his words.” Dorian began pacing and Da’ean could see the anguish in his eyes. “But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?” Dorian faced his father, turning his back to Da’ean. “You tried to change me.” This time his voice did break, along with Da’ean’s heart.

How could a father do something so horrendous to their child? Da’ean couldn’t understand it; and his chest was aching for Dorian, and all of the torment he must have weathered at the hands of this man.

“I only wanted what was best for you.” The guilt tripping tone ignited Da’ean’s fury.

Dorian’s as well it seemed, “You wanted what was best for you! For your fucking legacy. Anything for that.”

Dorian made his way over to a nearby table, resting both hands down on it, shoulders heaving. Da’ean moved to stand next to him and placed a hand over one of Dorian’s. Carefully, to not spook the man, Da’ean laced their fingers together. A show of solidarity. Dorian looked at him, searching his face with his heart in his eyes. As much as he wanted to slit the Magister’s throat, Da’ean knew if they left now Dorian would always blame himself for not getting any closure. It would be painful, Creators would it hurt, but Dorian needed to talk things out with his father. “Don’t leave it like this Dorian. You’ll never forgive yourself.”

Dorian closed his eyes, and gripped Da’ean’s hand with bruising strength for a moment. Dorian took a deep breath, dropped Da’ean’s hand, and walked back to his father. “Tell me why you came.”

“If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition”

“You didn’t. I joined the Inquisition because it is the right thing to do. Once I had a father who would have known that.” Dorian’s voice softened near the end. Halward just shook his head as Dorian made to leave. He didn’t speak until they were almost out the door.

“Once I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed.” Dorian turned, “I only wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice again. To ask him to forgive me.”

Finally, finally the man was admitting to being in the wrong. Was no longer trying to defend himself or his actions. Dorian meet Da’ean’s eyes and Da’ean nodded at Halward. As Dorian moved to talk with his father, Da’ean made his way to the door. Gently, as to not make any noise, Da’ean opened the door and stepped out into Redcliffe. Almost as soon as he did he was ambushed by a distraught Cole.

“It hurts. It hurts but I can’t pull it loose because it’s tangled.” The spirits voice caught. “I can’t help if he thinks he’s supposed to hurt.” Da’ean gathered Cole into his arms, needing the physical contact as much as Cole in that moment. He swept Cole’s ridiculous hat off his head, and pulled him under his chin. “There are sometimes when it’s better to hurt now, so the hurt doesn’t grow later.” Da’ean murmured into the spirit’s honey colored hair. “Somethings need to be fixed, even though the fixing is what hurts the most.” Da’ean spied Bull making his way over to them, and smiled weakly at him.

Cole looked up at Da’ean with his big halla eyes. “I don’t know how to help when it tears.”

Da’ean tightened his arms around Cole. “Oh da’lath’in, it’s not something that can be easily healed.”

Cole’s gaze unfocused, “Gentle hands holding a sword too big to carry. A knife through her chest I can feel in my own. My fault. My fault.”

Da’ean pressed his eyes shut, “Yes, like that. Sometimes we blame ourselves for things we can’t control. We think we deserve to hurt when we don’t because it’s easier than thinking nothing could have changed what happened.” Da’ean’s throat was tight, the words needing to force themselves past the heart lodged in their way. Da’ean became aware of a large hand gently clasping the back of his neck, he took a shuddering breath. “It’ll be alright da’lath’in. Dorian’s strong. He’ll be alright.” Da’ean repeated it like a mantra in his head and waited for Dorian to be reconciled with his father, secure in Bull’s hands.

The sun had almost set by the time Halward stepped out of the Gull and Lantern, motioning at the party to indicate his departure. Da’ean found Dorian inside, gazing out a window. “He says we’re alike. Too much pride.” He didn’t turn to face the elf, even as Da’ean stood at his side. “Once I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now, I’m not certain. I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

Da’ean’s heart was still aching, “You said he tried to change you?”

Dorian glanced at him over a shoulder and Da’ean wished he hadn’t. His eyes were hollow, empty of the warmth Da’ean had always been able to find before. “Out of desperation. I wouldn’t put on a show, mary the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away.” The mage looked back out the window. “Selfish I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside. He was going to do a blood ritual, alter my mind. Make me... acceptable.” Dorian’s pause was more than telling. “I found out. I left.”

Da’ean’s stomach dropped, “Can blood magic actually do that?”

Dorian looked at him again, “Maybe. It also could have left me a drooling vegetable.” Da’ean’s ill feeling intensified, his mind reeling. In no way should anyone be forced to undergo such torture. Being forced to chose between being yourself, or leaving everything you know behind you to start over from nothing. Da'ean couldn't imagine it, and he wanted nothing more than to help Dorian. “It crushed me to think he found that absurd risk preferable to scandal. Part of me has always hoped he didn’t really want to go through with it. If he had, I can’t even imagine the person I would be now. I wouldn’t like that Dorian.” Dorian’s voice held so much anguish.

“Are you alright?”

Dorian’s eyes softened. “No, not really.” At long last Dorian moved from the window, placing himself in front of Da’ean, not two inches separating them. “Thank you for bringing me out here. It wasn’t what I expected, but… it’s something.” Dorian lowered his eyes. “Maker knows what you must think of me now. After that whole display.”

Da’ean cupped Dorian’s face in his palms, ran a soothing thumb over his cheekbone, and forced him to meet Da’ean’s gaze. “I don’t think any less of you lethal’lin. More if possible.”

Dorian smiled softly at him, some of the pain receding from his eyes. “The things you say.”

“I mean it.” Dread Wolf take him. He did. Dorian had revealed himself to be kind and gentle, never seriously placing himself above others. Da’ean had fallen hard and fast for the man, his heart never one for caution.

“My father never understood. Living a lie, it festers inside you like poison.” Da’ean could feel Dorian’s racing heart beneath his fingers, his eyes never leaving the elfs. “You have to fight for what’s in your heart.”

Da’ean smiled at him, “I agree.” He closed the scant distance between them. Their first kiss was chaste. Their second was not. Dorian kissed Da’ean desperately, like he was afraid he wouldn’t get another chance. Da’ean met his ferocity and tamed it, gentling the kiss to something sweet shared between them.

They broke apart breathlessly, “I see you enjoy playing with fire Inquisitor.” Da’ean laughed hoarsely, “At any rate, time to drink myself into a stupor. It’s been that sort of day.” Dorian stepped out of Da’ean’s embrace, heading to the bar. “My father paid to rent the entire tavern for the night before he came.” He sounded flippant, browsing the selection of alcohol the tavern kept in stock.

“Let’s stay the night here then. We can leave for Skyhold in the morning.” Dorian hummed noncommittally at Da’ean, swiping both a bottle of the Ferelden ale he said he detested and a flask of Antivan brandy. “I’ll tell Bull and Cole.” Da’ean started to head for the door, but Dorian’s voice stopped him.

“Join me later, if you’ve a mind.” Dorian gestured up the stairs with the flask, “I wouldn’t mind your company.” Dorian sauntered up to the second floor of the tavern and disappeared. Da’ean sighed, there was no way he’d be able to talk things out with Dorian tonight. He would go to the mages room later, if only to make sure he didn’t drown himself. He left the tavern to find the other two, not wanting to leave them in the dark about their lodgings for the evening.

Da’ean woke earlier than the others the following morning. His night had been less than restful, worried as he was about Dorian. When he’d gone into the mages room, the man was already fast asleep. Da’ean had thought it good for him, and left after pulling the blankets more closely around him. Now, he was making a familiar potion to stave off the worst effects from Dorian’s drinks. Humming an old lullaby his mother used to sing to him; Da’ean finished Dorian’s potion and brought it, along with a small tray of bread and cheese he’d been able to scrounge up in the kitchen. Da’ean had been sure to leave a generous amount of coins on the table, not wanting to abuse the poor tavern. Quietly, Da’ean opened the door and gently placed them both on the small table next to Dorian’s bed. Without waking the softly snoring mage, Da’ean left the room.

 

On the day following their arrival back at Skyhold, Cullen informed him they’d been able to finally clear out the Forbidden Oasis. It was an area that held immense interest for Da’ean, the shards they’d found were fascinating in their own right and he couldn’t wait to show them to Idrilla. His sister had always been interested in odd things, and glowing skulls pretty much topped the list of weird shit. Da’ean smiled, the Oasis also held interest for a more personal reason.

Da’ean knew Dorian tired of the constant Ferelden cold, and while he wasn’t sure Dorian would appreciate travelling, Da’ean figured the allure of an oasis would be enough to satisfy him. If it didn’t, well, Da’ean could be fairly persuasive if he wanted to be. He also needed an opportunity to give Dorian his amulet back once he received it. Da’ean and Josephine would be making a private trip to Val Royeaux to speak with some compte tomorrow anyway. Da’ean planned on speaking with Ponchard while he was there. Grinning, Da’ean took the stairs up to the library, nodding respectfully at Solas who was busy painting. Halfway up, Da’ean could hear raised voices.

“I don’t know what you think you are doing.”

“I’m being clucked at by a hen apparently.” Dorian’s acid tongue would land him in trouble some day, but at the moment it caused Da’ean no small amount of amusement.

“Don’t play the fool with me young man.” What in Thedas could be causing Mother Giselle to lash out at Dorian?

“If I wanted to play the fool I could be much more convincing I assure you.”

“Your glib tongue does you no credit.” Da’ean was becoming concerned, the Mother had no right speaking to any of his companions in such a manner.

“You’d be surprised at the credit my tongue gets me your reverence.” Mythal have mercy, Da’ean crested the stairs; trying to keep his thoughts professional, he only partially succeeded.

“Oh, I…” Mother Giselle must have spotted him, and now that he was there she needed to save face.

“What’s going on here?” Da’ean kept his face neutral, to see just what the revered mother could possibly be up to.

“It seems the Revered Mother is concerned about my undue influence over you.” Dorian’s tone was light, airy, but Da’ean could see the way his hands had curled into balls under his crossed arms.

“It is a just concern.” Mother Giselle was trying the placate him, “Your worship you must know how this looks.”

Da’ean was of the mind that it was beginning to look as though Mother Giselle wanted him to have nothing to do with Dorian. And that would not do.

“You might need to spell it out my dear.” Dorian tensed, and his voice was tight. Da'ean wondered, for just how long had Mother Giselle been needling Dorian? How long had he let this go on without noticing?

“This man is of Tevinter, his presence at your side… The rumors alone.”

Irritation began to coil inside Da’ean. He knew all about Tevinter and what they were capable of. “What’s wrong with him being from Tevinter, exactly?”

“I’m fully aware not everyone from the Imperium is the same.” So far it didn’t seem so to Da’ean.

“How kind of you to notice. Yet you still bow down to the opinions of the masses.” Da’ean found himself in agreement with Dorian. The mother was taking things much too far.

“The opinion of the masses is based on centuries of evidence. What would you have me tell them?” Da’ean sighed out of his nose, the woman was wrapping her own biases in a cloak made of other opinions.

“The truth?”

“The truth is I don’t know you, and neither do they. Thus these rumors will continue.”

Da’ean’s irritability crested. “Oh? I’d like to hear about what these rumors are pray tell.”

Mother Giselle’s face slipped into a sheepish expression, “I, could not repeat them. Your worship.”

She had the audacity not to apologize, “Repeat them? So you’ve shared them before?”

“I... see. I meant no disrespect Inquisitor, only to ask after this man’s intentions. If you feel he is without ulterior motive, then I humbly beg forgiveness of you both.” Da’ean was fairly sure the only one of them with ulterior motives was the Revered Mother.

“Well, that was something.” Dorian sounded resigned, as if he was used to people reacting to him as she did. Unacceptable.

“She didn’t get to you did she?”

“No. It takes more to get to me than thinly veiled accusations.”

“You don’t think she’ll do anything?” Loathe though he was to think the mother might do something to harm Dorian it was a possibility he couldn’t overlook.

“Do what? Your’s is the good grace I care about, not hers.” Dorian shook his head, arms still held tight against himself. “It does make me wonder, is my influence over you undue?”

Da’ean smiled, “Perhaps, but it’s the kind of undue influence I enjoy.”

Dorian’s eyes crinkled around the edges when he smiled. “No one accused you of being politically astute.”

“Not today.”

Dorian laughed, easing the weight which had been settling on Da’ean’s heart. “I tease you too much I know.”

“It’s helpful when you turn that scathing wit on people other than me.”

“I’ll have to find something we can do that doesn’t involve teasing.” Heat flooded Da’ean’s face, turning the tips of his ears red. “Soon ideally.”

Da’ean laid a hand on Dorian’s crossed arms. “Well, in a week or so, we’ll be headed out to the Forbidden Oasis. Care to join?” Da’ean dropped his voice, letting it come out rough.

“Oh? An oasis is it?” Dorian lowered his eyes, looking at the rogue through his lashes. “I’ll be sure to pack lightly.”

Da’ean’s heart pounded in his chest, so loud he was sure Dorian could hear it. Creators this man would be the death of him. Though Da’ean was sure it would be worth it. And there was nothing more exciting for his runaway heart to dwell on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Da'lath'in- Elvhen endearment for children, literally small heart. Usually used to describe someone who cares deeply, wears their heart on their sleeve, or is exceptionally compassionate. And Da'ean doesn't really think of Cole as a child, but thinks of him in an elvish view of spirits. He wants to help Cole just as Cole wants to help everyone.


	5. Fun in the Sun (and Moonlight)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Da'ean's feelings come to head when Dorian confronts him in the Forbidden Oasis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch the rating change, if you're not into the porny bits, it's not plot building and you can skip it. It's at the very beginning, starting with Dorian's romance dialogue. Ending with "A heartbeat of silence passed between them."

Meeting an assassin was not very high of Da’ean’s list of things he wanted to do, even if the experience had been exciting. Ponchard on the other hand, had been less than helpful. Casually stating the elf needed to do him an extreme favor before he would return Dorian’s amulet to him. Da’ean shook his head; it didn’t matter now, Ponchard had held up his end of the bargain and gave him the amulet as soon as he received word of his new status, and that was all that mattered. They would be leaving for the Oasis later in the day, and Da’ean wanted to give Dorian his amulet back before they left. Da’ean approached Dorian outside, the man was appreciating a rare moment of warmth on the grounds and was leaning on the stone edge of the wall facing the mountains. Dorian’s skin was lit from the outside causing it to glow pleasantly, the scene making Da’ean’s heart warm.

“I have something for you.” Dorian turned around, looking at him curiously. “Here.” Da’ean held out the amulet, which Dorian took reverently. 

Dorian cast his eyes up, tightness scrunching them. “Now I’m indebted to you.”

“I didn’t do this so you’d be indebted to me Dorian, I did this for you.” Confusion painted itself across Da’ean’s face, what had he done wrong? “How is that a problem?”

Dorian paced the battlements, his agitation seeping out of him. “Someone intelligent would cozy up to the Inquisitor if they could. It’d be foolish not to.” He was blaming himself, again. Da’ean wanted to shake the man free of his insecurities. “He can open doors, get you whatever you want, shower you with gifts and power. That’s what they’ll say. That I’m the Magister who is using you.” 

Perfect. Da’ean smiled flirtatiously at Dorian, “Is that all? Please use me Dorian, I was beginning to think you were all talk.”

Dorian laughed brightly, “You are glorious.” He stepped closer to Da’ean, wrapping his arms around the rogues waist. “I am, apparently, an incredible ass at accepting gifts. I apologize, and thank you.” Dorian kissed Da’ean softly. “I’m going to stop before I say something syrupy, but I won’t forget this… And I will repay you, count on it.” 

Da’ean pulled the mage down into another kiss, nipping at Dorian’s bottom lip and swallowing the startled laugh Dorian gave. “You’ve done more than enough for me vhen’an’nehn.” He murmured into the mage’s skin. Dorian quirked an eyebrow at him, though the expression was rather ruined by his brilliant blush. Da’ean was just as affected, the elven slipping out of him before he had really been aware of it. “We should head to the stables, the party is probably waiting for us.” Da’ean sounded breathless, and just from a single kiss.

Dorian grinned, “Of course. Wouldn’t want to deny them our illustrious leader’s presence.” Right, cheekiness aside, they really should be moving. The Forbidden Oasis was waiting.

Da’ean had never been in a desert before and he was fairly sure the heat was going to kill him. Even Dorian, the delicate desert flower, was uncomfortable. Though all his sweat seemed to do was make his skin shine. Ridiculous human, Da’ean’s thoughts around the man were not making him any cooler in the slightest. Bull and Solas however, looked fine. Bull, Da’ean could kind of understand, Seheron was a jungle; a hot mess in every meaning of the phrase. But Solas? Da’ean blamed it on magic, the uptight elf must be using some kind of magic. 

Solasan had also been strange. The ancient elvhen temple was intriguing; the warding at the door giving him pause at first. But the inside; it was absolutely astonishing. They’d only had enough shards to open one of the passages all the way; and Da’ean had chosen the door with the vines creeping along it, as he felt it was calling to him. The elf was still in a state of awe, even as he undressed to enter the pond at the center of the Oasis.

The cool water was soft as silk against Da’ean’s skin as he stepped into it. He’d shed his clothes as soon as he was alone and had folded them, placing them along the sandy shore. The rogue had waited until nightfall, the setting sun bringing with it a small drop in the temperature. Sighing contentedly, Da’ean leaned his head back; letting his hair out of his braid and into the waist deep water. 

“So.” Da’ean jumped slightly as Dorian’s voice, lifting his head to stand up straight. Dorian was standing by the water’s edge, slowly unbuckling the many clasps which made up his ludicrous outfit. Dorian revealed a leaner chest than Da’ean had been expecting, the mage’s skin tensing in the cooler air. “It’s all very nice, this flirting business. I am, however, not a nice man.”

Dorian’s robes fell from his shoulders, pooling around his feet. He stepped out of them clad only in his small clothes. Da’ean’s cock twitched, his arousal starting to build. Dorian met Da’ean’s heady gaze, his own interest straining against the thin cloth of his smalls. “So here is my proposal: we dispense with the chit-chat and move onto something more, primal.” Dorian’s voice was low, rich with promise. The mage bent at the waist, pulling his small clothes down his legs and away from himself. Da’ean looked the mage over hungrily; Dorian’s tan skin was catching the moonlight beautifully, and Da’ean wanted to touch every inch of it. 

Dorian entered the water, finally, “It’ll set tongues wagging of course, not that they aren’t already wagging.” He walked around Da’ean, curling his hands around the elf’s waist, his mouth ghosting over Da’ean’s sensitive ears. “I guess it really depends, how bad does the Inquisitor want to be?” Da’ean’s cock was rising to the occasion, at any rate. The rogue turned in Dorian’s arms; laying his hands on the mage’s shoulders, fingers splayed to trace Dorian’s neck. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Dorian smiled softly at him, “I like playing hard to get.”

Da’ean slid his hand up the long column of Dorian’s throat to cup his face in his palm. “And now?” The elf’s heart was racing, it had been years since he’d last lain with anyone, and he’d never been with anyone like Dorian. Someone he cared about, deeply. 

“I’m gotten.” Two simple words ignited a fire within Da’ean, desire and affection twisting and coiling together in his gut. Da’ean pulled Dorian down into a potent kiss, rolling his hips as he did. Dorian gasped, and Da’ean captured the sound, arching into the mage. 

Da’ean dropped his hands from Dorian’s cheek, smoothing them down the mages chest to brush across Dorian’s nipples. Dorian groaned, the low sound fanning the flames of Da’ean’s arousal. “Sensitive are we?” The elf’s voice was husky, and he trailed a line of kisses down the mages neck to his collar. Da’ean sucked a mark into Dorian’s shoulder, the mage’s skin jumping under his tongue. I do recall saying something about finding something to do that doesn’t involve teasing.” Dorian’s breathing was coming faster, his voice broken into little gasps. Da’ean grinned, and gently kissed the bruise forming on the mage’s tender skin. 

“I don’t recall agreeing to those terms vhen’an’nehn.” Da’ean let one hand trace down Dorian’s chest, fingers splayed to touch as much as possible before reaching his goal. Dorian’s breath hitched when Da’ean pressed into the softness of Dorian’s inner thigh. The mage tried to angle his hips, but Da’ean just tightened his grip of the sensitive skin. 

“Please amatus.” Da’ean glanced up to Dorian’s face, and found the man a wreck. His lips were kiss-bruised and dark, his normally perfectly styled hair in disarray. Da’ean felt a primal kind of pride surge through him at being the one to put the usually put together mage in such a state. 

“I didn’t bring anything with me, you needy creature.” Da’ean smiled into Dorian’s skin, kissing the tip of his ear. 

“Good thing you’re bedding a mage then isn’t it.” Dorian loosened his hold on Da’ean’s waist, raising a hand between them. The man winked at Da’ean, and conjured a handful a slick. “There, that works.” 

Da’ean shook his head, but he moved his hand from Dorian’s thigh to his cock, giving the mage a single long stroke. Dorian shuddered, and Da’ean coated his fingers in the slippery substance Dorian had created. Dorian twined his clean hand into Da’ean’s wet hair, tugging slightly on the long red tresses. 

Da’ean pushed the man against the rock wall of the Oasis, sliding an arm under Dorian’s leg and hooking it around his waist. Da’ean returned his attention to the mage’s ear, biting down softly on the tender skin, and swirling his slick fingers around Dorian’s entrance. Dorian shivered in the elf’s arms, rocking against him. 

“Greedy.” Da’ean smiled into the words; circling a thumb around tip of Dorian’s length, smearing the pearly drops beading there into the water. Dorian let out a rush of air, twisting in Da’ean’s grip to find more friction. Da’ean pressed in with a finger, the intoxicating feeling of Dorian’s silken heat tightening around his finger causing him to groan. 

Dorian tightened his hold on Da’ean’s hair, pulling sharply. “Kaffas.” Dorian’s voice was shaking, with desire or impatience Da’ean didn’t wait to find out. Smoothly, Da’ean slid his finger in the rest of the way, curling gently as he did so. Dorian moaned, the sound echoing slightly off the stone cliff wall surrounding them. Da’ean picked up the pace of his hand on the mage’s length, making sure Dorian felt only the smallest burn from the stretch. 

“I think I would like to hear you beg for me vhen’an.” Da’ean’s voice came out rough, his finger searching for the spot inside Dorian Da’ean knew would make the mage see stars. Dorian jerked in his arms, another moan escaping from his lips. Found it, Da’ean ran his finger over the bundle of nerves again, gently thumbing the tip of Dorian’s cock. 

Dorian writhed, his voice reverberating around them, “Please, amatus” 

Da’ean obliged, slipping in another finger alongside the first with no further preamble. Da’ean scissored them, sinking his fingers in and out of Dorian. Dorian groaned, torn between thrusting up into Da’ean’s hand or grinding down onto the elf’s fingers. Da’ean kept twisting them inside Dorian, drawing more delicious sounds from the mage. He added a third finger, and Dorian hissed out a breath between his teeth. “Alright vhen’an’nehn?”

“Quite,” Dorian shifted, urging Da’ean to keep moving his hand. Da’ean slowed his stroking, focusing on the feeling of his fingers in the mage. The elf continued pressing against the nerve with every thrust of his fingers, until Dorian tugged on his hair. “Enough already amatus, I want to feel more than just your fingers.” Dorian sounded wrecked, his voice trembling.

Da’ean shuddered against Dorian, removing his fingers as gently as he could in his affected state. Dorian conjured another handful of slick, and Da’ean coated himself with it liberally. Da’ean leaned to rest his forehead against Dorian’s, breathing in deeply before pushing up into the mage. Heat bloomed low in Da’ean, the smooth heat of Dorian surrounding his cock overwhelming. Da’ean moaned, the sound mingling with Dorian’s own. “Sildeara on, ir’ina’lan’ehn.” 

Da’ean rolled his hips, sinking further into the mage until he was fully seated. Dorian drew him into a heated kiss, teeth grazing Da’ean’s bottom lip, parting his lips open with ease. Dorian broke the kiss with an obscene pop, “Move amatus.”

Da’ean wasted no time in snapping his hips into a rough rhythm, driving in and out of Dorian with no small amount of force. Dorian’s breath began to come in short staccato cries, the sound going straight to Da’ean’s cock. “Festis bei umo canavarum. Commodo amatus, commodo.” Da’ean kissed the sensitive skin under Dorian’s ear, and thumbed the slit at the tip of Dorian’s cock. Dorian shook himself apart in Da’ean’s arms, his mouth falling open in a silent scream.

With Dorian constricting around him, it wasn’t long before white exploded behind Da’ean’s eyes. Da’ean’s rhythm crumbled, his hips stuttering as his mind went blank with pleasure. Dorian ran a hand through Da’ean’s hair, smoothing the strands under his fingers as the elf came down from his high. Da’ean kissed Dorian tenderly, dropping Dorian’s leg from his waist and separating himself as he softened. 

A heartbeat of silence passed between them, both of them breathing heavily in the now still air. Dorian stirred first, opening his mouth with a question in his eyes. Da’ean quickly held a finger against Dorian’s lips. “Whatever you have to say now can wait until we’re dry can’t it?”

Dorian nodded, making his way over the shore where their clothes lay still in their piles. Da’ean followed, admiring the view the mage presented. The soft dirt under his feet as he exited the water was comforting to Da’ean; having to wear shoes all day was not something the elf relished, but getting his toes cut off in battle was not something he wanted either. Dorian shifted to face Da’ean and waved a hand in his direction. A warm breeze passed over him, drying all the water from his heated skin. Da’ean’s eyes widened, “Well that’s helpful.”

Dorian chuckled, “You didn’t expect me to air dry did you?” Dorian pulled his small clothes on, but not his robe. Instead, he just folded it and laid it down beside him. 

“Maybe a little.” Da’ean knelt behind the mage, pulling Dorian against his chest as he sat. “Now, what was it you wanted to ask?”

Dorian leaned back into Da’ean, “I’m curious as to where this goes, you and I.” The mage curled against Da’ean, his hands covering Da’ean’s as they wrapped around Dorian’s torso. “We’ve had fun, perfectly reasonable to leave it here. Get on with the business of killing archdemons and such.” Dorian paused, and Da’ean could feel the tension building in the mage.

“Tell me what you want.” Da’ean had no lead on this ridiculous man, no idea as to where he could be heading.

“All on me then?” Dorian sounded, disappointed. His grip on Da’ean’s hands tightening slightly.

“Should it be all on me?” Da’ean questioned, the elf knew what he wanted out of this, but if Dorian didn’t want the same thing…

Dorian sighed, “I like you. More than I should, more than might be wise.” Da’ean’s heart was bound to burst from his chest if it kept beating as hard as it was in that moment. Dorian felt the same, Dorian wanted more. “We end it here, I walk away. I won’t be pleased, but I’d rather now than later. Later might be dangerous.”

Never, if they both truly wanted this, Da’ean would fight tooth and claw for a chance to keep this man next to him. “Why dangerous?”

“Walking away might be harder then.” Dorian’s voice was soft enough to be carried away by the wind. Da’ean tensed, drawing the mage closer to him.

“I want more than just fun Dorian. This isn’t the kind of thing I do lightly. I want you, vhen’an’nehn, all of you.” Da’ean ran a hand along Dorian’s smooth skin, sliding his way up and down his arm. “Speechless I see.”

Dorian trembled, “I was… expecting something different.” Da’ean kissed the crown of Dorian’s head, the soft hair tickling his nose. “Where I come from, anything between two men… It’s about pleasure. It’s accepted, but taken no further.” Dorian rested his head in the crook of Da’ean’s neck. “You learn not to hope for more, you’d be foolish to.”

Da’ean smiled. “So let’s be foolish.” Da’ean’s heart was still beating wildly inside his chest, the elf was sure Dorian could feel its beating against the bare skin of his chest.

“Hard habit to break.” The tremor in his voice eating away at Da’ean. 

“I’m good at breaking things.” As soon as he said them, Da’ean kicked himself for the words. His mind screamed at him, what an idiotic thing to say to someone he wanted nothing more than to protect.

“Hopefully not everything.” 

Da’ean tightened his arms around Dorian. “You, vhen’an’nehn, are worth protecting.” Da’ean held Dorian close for a moment, “I do have a confession to make.” 

“I am as you say down south, all ears.” The elf felt self conscious for a beat, before deciding Dorian meant nothing by the words. 

“The Dalish have a word, Nas’tua’tan’vhen’an.” Da’ean took a deep breath, trying to still the rising fear growing in him. “In Common, it means something close to ‘Three hearts to make a soul'.” Da’ean fell silent to let his words take full effect on Dorian. “It’s a word we use to describe trios of people falling in love with each other.” Dorian stilled in his arms, seemingly holding his breath. “What do you think about the Iron Bull?” 

Dorian relaxed slightly, breathing out what Da’ean hoped was a sigh of relief. “I will not hide my surprise amatus... But I will admit Bull has been no small comfort.” Dorian threaded their fingers together, resting them back on his arm. “He was there at Redcliffe, both times.” The mage shook his head, “We really should avoid that village.” Da’ean chuckled, the noise muffled in Dorian’s hair. “He told me I was brave, standing up to my father like I did. He was kind as well, saying he too knew what it was like to give up everything you knew, and kept me company when you had to do Inquisitor things.” Da’ean could hear the smile in Dorian’s voice. “Bull is a good man, I… I would not be opposed to asking him to join us.”

Loud laughter issued from the shadows behind them, startling the pair. Da’ean let out a small squeak, and tried to ignore Dorian’s low chuckle at the sound. “Everyone wants to ride the Bull.” Bull stepped out into the moonlight, the man’s pants billowing with the movement.

“How long have you been standing there?” Da’ean never heard the Qunari sneak up on them, granted he’d been a little distracted, but still. He was a Dalish hunter, he should be more aware of his surroundings. 

“Long enough to hear about a new elf thing.” Bull was grinning, his teeth flashing in the dark. Da’ean blushed, there was no way Bull didn’t know what the two of them had been up to minutes before that, and the heated look in his eyes wasn’t helping to keep the elf on track. “I was looking for you actually Boss. Got a letter from the Ben-Hassrath. Already verified it with Red.”

“What did it say?” Bull started to look antsy, something Da’ean was not used to seeing in him. If something was wrong, Da’ean wanted to help.

“The Ben-Hassrath have been reading my reports. They don’t like Corypheus or his Venatori. And they really don’t like red lyrium.” Of course they didn’t. Anyone who had sense didn’t like those things. But what were they after? The Qunari didn’t just help out. They didn’t really even make deals. Something fishy was going on and Da’ean didn’t like it. 

“They’re ready to work with us. With you Boss.” Bull was separating himself from the Inquisition, and it hurt Da’ean more than it should. He thought Bull wanted to be there, but maybe he truly was only following orders. “The Qunari and the Inquisition, joining forces.”

“That could be a powerful alliance.” Dorian said in an undertone, once again settling himself in Da’ean’s lap. 

“My people have never made a full blown alliance with a foreign power before, this would be a big step. They found a massive red lyrium shipping operation out on the Storm Coast. They want us to hit it together, maybe bringing in a dreadnought.” Bull’s eyes brightened as he spoke about the huge warship; with pride or battle-lust, Da’ean wasn’t sure.

“They’re worried about tipping off the smugglers, so no army. My chargers, you, maybe some backup.” Da’ean’s feelings of wariness only increased, the Ben-Hassrath were cunning. If they wanted this lyrium operation taken out, it wouldn’t be a big deal for them. Something else was happening here, but he didn’t want to worry Bull with it, the Qunari had enough to deal with as it was. But if Bull was in the least bit suspicious about this deal too... 

“You don’t seem entirely happy about this.”

“No, I’m good.” Bull’s answer came a little too fast, a little too forced. “It’s uh… I’m used to them being over there. It’s been awhile.” Now he was separating himself from the Qun, and suddenly Da’ean was afraid. 

If the Ben-Hassrath knew what Da’ean was beginning to see, that Bull was having an identity crisis of sorts, this would be the perfect time to secure his loyalty back to them. They could handle the red lyrium problem, and Bull at the same time. The only question being what would they use to pull Bull back. The only thing he held close other than the Qun was… What?

Oh, Da’ean’s heart sank, the Chargers. Bull treated them like family, had given his eye for Krem on the first day they met. If the Ben-Hassrath could set up the Chargers to fail, force Bull to choose them… Da’ean grew cold, even with the warm breeze from the oasis ruffling his hair. There was no way he could say anything to Bull, the warrior probably already knew he was being tested. Da’ean clutched at Dorian’s arm, needing some grounding contact.

“About your proposal though,” Bull sounded more solumb now, quieter. “I’ll need to think about it, can you wait until after we deal with the Qunari?” 

Da’ean could feel Dorian nod in his arms, and tightened his arms around the mage. “For however long you need ma’isenatha.” Da’ean’s heart soared, he hadn’t thought he would be so lucky as to have both of them.

“Thanks Boss.” Bull disappeared back into the shadows, Da’ean assumed to go back to camp. He never knew with the Qunari though, and he could be headed anywhere. 

Dorian stirred in Da’ean’s lap, “Well, that was rather anti-climatic.”

“Were you expecting grand declarations of unending affection?” Da’ean grinned into the words, knowing the mage, he’d probably been expecting something a little harsher. 

“Maybe a little.” Dorian echoed Da’ean’s words from earlier, relaxing back into the elf’s chest. 

Da’ean’s grin widened impishly, “Well if it’s grand words you’re looking for…” Dorian shut him up with a kiss, turning in Da’ean’s arms to make the angle less awkward. Breaking it after only a moment, Da’ean squeezed Dorian’s arms. “Aww, are you shy ma’nehn?”

Dorian blushed, the pink flush spreading down all the way to his chest. “Definitely not.” He yawned, “What I am in this moment is tired.” Da’ean kissed the crown of Dorian’s head, and the mage curled their interlinked fingers, drawing them up to rest them above his heart. “I think I’ll head back to camp. Care to join me amatus?”

Da’ean took a second to think, originally he’d come out to bathe and process some news he’d learned in private. “I still need to think about some things. You distracted me earlier, not that I minded.” Da’ean let his soft smile bleed into his voice. “I’ll come back in a few minutes, the stars here are brighter and they help me condense my thoughts.” 

Dorian paused, his breath catching. “Can you promise that?” His words sounded heavy, the tone weightier than Da’ean would expect from something so simple.

“Can I promise what?” The elf questioned.

“To come back.” Oh. Even after all that had happened tonight, Dorian still believed Da’ean would leave eventually. Would get bored and drop the mage behind him as he moved on. Da’ean felt the urge to shake the mage again, instead Da’ean clasped Dorian to him, holding him as close as he could.

“I promise I will always come back to you ma’vhen’an’nehn.” Da’ean whispered into Dorian’s hair. Dorian shivered, and untangled himself from Da’ean. Stretching as he stood, Dorian picked his clothes up from the sandy clearing he’d laid them in. Putting them on, he turned to face Da’ean.

Dorian smiled, “I trust you not to break your promise, goodnight amatus.”

Da’ean returned the smile, “Goodnight vhen’an’nehn.”

Dorian padded off in the direction of camp, his feet leaving impressions in the sand. Da’ean lifted his head to stare out at the sky. The bright glowing stars shining down on him; their light, along with the moon’s, was soothing to the elf. He relaxed, laying back until he was flat, his arms underneath his head. His thoughts drifted, dwelling on his clan. 

The letter his Keeper had sent him was more than worrying. Da’ean smelled a rat, hiding behind these so-called bandits, and Leliana had agreed with him. She told him she would send some of her agents to protect his clan, probably more aware of the dangers facing elves than Cullen or Josephine due to her time spent with the Dalish Hero of Ferelden. Da’ean trusted the Nightingale to see his family safe, but he worried more about why the bandits were attacking and in such numbers. It didn’t make sense, not only did the Dalish not have anything worth stealing, but they were camped closely to a human city. A city that would harbor no qualms with ridding the world of a clan of knife-eared savages. 

Da’ean tore himself away from his grim thoughts, Leliana was doing all she could. Whether or not his family stayed safe was no longer in his control, he’d have to wait it out. Sighing, Da’ean tried to focus on more immediate problems, like what the Qunari wanted with Bull.

The elf was fairly sure he was right in suspecting the Ben-Hassrath of foul play, but a large figure stepping onto the sandy shore cut his musings short.

“So Boss, I asked Dalish what that word meant, the elvish one you used earlier.” Fenedhis lasa, Da’ean had forgotten about Dalish, and Bull’s stupidly remarkable memory. “When I did, both she and Skinner laughed so hard they fell off their stools in the tavern. Told me it was perfect and they would never translate.” 

Da’ean grinned, and lifted himself into a sitting position. His secret was safe with Dalish and Skinner, they’d keep it just for laughs. “I didn’t know Skinner knew Elvhen. I thought she grew up in an alienage.”

Bull laughed, and sat himself down next to Da’ean. “Dalish has been teaching her, among other things. I thought about asking Solas, but...” Bull shrugged, the movement drawing Da’ean’s attention to the Qunari’s massive shoulders. “That’s not why I came to talk with you though.” Bull nudged him, “What’s wrong on your end, you looked tense.”

Da’ean sighed, “I was… caught up in being concerned about my family. That’s all.”

“All right Boss. You should go back to camp though, staying out all night isn’t good for you.” Bull laid a hand on Da’ean’s shoulder. “If your clan needs help, the Chargers will be there for them. You know that right.” Bull stood, handing Da’ean the clothes he’d laid out earlier. 

Da’ean fought back a sudden wave of emotions, not wanting to seem weak in front of Bull. “I…” His voice caught in his throat, “Thank you Bull, I’ll remember them.” Da’ean stood, and walked back into camp alongside Bull. 

Dorian was asleep when Da’ean entered the tent, his arm sprawled onto Da’ean’s bedroll. Da’ean smiled, the sight was pulling at his heart, and it was something the elf wanted to see again. Gently, Da’ean lifted Dorian’s arm, and slid into his bedroll. The idea of falling asleep curled around the one he wanted most to wake up to giving Da’ean no small sense of gladness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be diving straight into Bull's personal quest next, and then into some more emotional relationship building.
> 
> Vhen'an'nehn: My hearts joy. Lit-The joy of the heart  
> Sildeara on, ir’ina’lan’ehn: You feel so good, gorgeous  
> Festis bei umo canavarum. Commodo amatus, commodo: You will be the death of me. Please beloved, please.


	6. New Beginnings

The Storm Coast was quickly becoming Da’ean’s least favorite place to be. The elf couldn’t see, it was freezing, and he was sure his skin would be damp for the rest of his life. Dorian was muttering under his breath as they picked their way over to the rendezvous location. Bull was hovering around the Chargers, giving Krem pointers Da’ean was sure he already knew. They reached a clearing with a tent erected in a far corner. Bull peered around, searching for whomever had been sent to meet them, assumably. 

“All right, our Qunari contact should be here to meet us.” 

“He is.” An elf stepped out of the tent, he was barefaced and Da’ean spared a thought for it. “Good to see you again Hissrad.”

“Gaat! Last I heard you were still in Seheron.” The excitement in Bull’s voice was unexpected, Bull never really talked about Seheron, or his times traveling. Mainly, if Da’ean asked, he would talk about the Chargers, or new developments in the Inquisition. This was the first time Da’ean was hearing about this Gaat, and he tried not to feel dispirited about it.

“They finally decided I’d calmed down enough to head back into the world.” Gaat was grinning as he greeted them, and it made Da’ean a little uneasy.   
Bull glanced over to Da’ean before returning his attention back to the other elf. “Boss, this is Gaat. We worked together in Seheron.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Inquisitor.” Gaat continued, “Hissrad’s reports say you’re doing good work.” 

Twice now he’d referred to Bull using the name Hissrad, was that the name he used under the Qun? Thinking about it, it made sense, the Iron Bull wouldn’t be a Qunari name, and he would have taken a new one anyway when he came to Orlais. “Iron Bull’s name is Hissrad?” 

Gaat looked amused by the question. “Under the Qun we use titles, not names.” 

Bull broke in swiftly, turning to look at Da’ean. “My title was Hissrad because I was assigned to secret work.” Was? Bull was separating himself from his old life under the Qun again. And this time in front of a Ben-Hassrath agent. Da’ean’s heart began to race, he didn’t much care for this alliance if it meant Bull would get hurt. “You can translate it as ‘Keeper of Illusions’ or.”

Gaat cut Bull off with a stern expression. “Liar. It means Liar.” 

Bull’s face twisted annoyance, “Well you didn’t have to say it like that.” Da’ean decided it would be best for Bull’s sake if he played nice with Gaat to divert his attention, hopefully, to himself. 

“I look forward to working together.” Da’ean’s stomach was churning. He knew he wasn’t the only one who was worried; Bull had been hovering over the Chargers all day. However much Da’ean had hoped he’d be able to end this without loss, it was beginning to look as though it was not to be. 

“Hopefully this will help both our peoples. Tevinter is dangerous without the influence of this Venatori cult.” 

Da’ean held back a wince as Dorian spoke up behind them. “Yes; filthy, decadent brutes the lot of them. I’m certain life would be much better for all of us under the Qun.” He was snapping at the one person in the group who had the most cause to hate Tevinter, and those living in it.

Gaat’s face hardened, his eyes growing cold. “It was for me. After the Qunari rescued me from slavery in Tevinter. I was eight.” This time Da’ean actually did flinch. It was a fate he, himself, had narrowly dodged. Da’ean wondered if Gaat had originally been Dalish, stolen from his clan like Da’ean when he was young; or born into slavery, no outlook in life save to serve cruel masters. The Dalish elf didn’t have to guess at the atrocities he’d suffered under Tevinter rule however, and he really didn’t want to relive his own time in captivity right now either. “The Qun isn’t perfect, but it gave me a better life.” 

“Yes, one free from all that pointless free will and independent thought. Such an improvement.” Da’ean whirled around to face Dorian, his expression stern. 

He let his disappointment show in his voice, Dorian knew better than to take the bait Gaat had thrown out. “Arguing about which country is the most atrocious isn’t going to help anyone right now.” Da’ean had to remind himself, Dorian was a human noble. While his life hadn’t always been sunshine and roses, he had never experienced the complete humiliation and terror instilled in slaves everyday. Da’ean rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the tension gathering there. He turned back to talk with Gaat, steadily ignoring the hurt in Dorian’s eyes. 

“I’m not here to convert anyone. All I care about is stopping this red lyrium from reaching Minrathous.” Da’ean glanced at Bull out of the corner of his eye; a frown was pulling down the corners of the Qunari’s mouth. Da’ean thought about reaching out, but just before he did uncertainty flashed through him. It was likely Bull wouldn’t appreciate any contact right now, he’d have to wait until later, in private, to comfort him. If Da’ean tried to help now, Gaat would only see it as a weakness in Bull. Something else trying to tear him away from the Qun. Da’ean didn’t want to force Bull’s hand; if the elf did and Bull chose him, it wouldn’t seem right to the elf. They were so new to each other yet, it wouldn’t be good for any of them. 

And if Bull didn’t chose them, Da’ean didn’t know how he would handle it. Most others his age already had lovers, past and present. Da’ean had never been able to connect with anyone in his clan like that; he had friends, good friends, but no experience whatsoever with matters of his own heart. 

“With this stuff the Vints could make their slaves into an army of magical freaks. We could lose Seheron, and see a giant Tevinter army down here.” This time Bull had used we, had he caught his mistake from earlier? Or was it that he was swinging between his identities: The Iron Bull or Hissrad. 

“The Ben-Hassrath agree. That’s why we’re here.” Gaat drew his attention away from Bull to address Da’ean directly. “Our dreadnought is safely out of view and out of range of any Venatori mages on shore. We’ll need to eliminate the Venatori, then signal the dreadnought so it can come and take out the smuggler ship.” 

Da’ean frowned, Gaat was completely cutting Bull out of the tactical planning and he didn’t like it. Bull had more right to lead than Da’ean did, and Gaat taking charge of the plan so forcefully was a little odd. “What do you think Bull?” Da’ean tilted his head to look up at him, and Bull relaxed slightly, shoulders straightening out. “Don’t know, never liked covering a dreadnought run. Too many ways for crap to go wrong. If our scouts underestimate enemy numbers, we’re dead. If we can’t lock down the Venatori mages, the ship is dead.” Bull paused, a scowl curling his lips. “It’s risky.”

Gaat shot Bull a sharp look. “Riskier than letting red lyrium into Minrathous?” 

Bull’s scowl deepened, and Da’ean could feel bile rising in his throat. Gaat was dictating the whole mission; if there was anything they could do to take a safer route, Da’ean would take it. “There might be Venatori mages on the ship as well, if the dreadnought can’t handle them.” 

Gaat rebuffed him before Da’ean could even finish. “It’s unlikely there’ll be more than two or three mages on the ship. And they’ll be dead by the third shot. On land though, a half dozen Venatori mages attacking the dreadnought from cover could do some serious damage.”

“If it’s dangerous for the dreadnought to come close to shore, why not attack when the smugglers reach open water?” 

Again, Gaat was quick to reply and Da’ean’s sense of apprehension grew. “Any decent smuggling ship can outrun a dreadnought on open water. We need to catch them close to shore.” 

Da’ean grit his teeth; the spy’s reasonings were sound, if risky. It was a clever move on their part if they had truly orchestrated the whole situation. “I could have crushed any Venatori resistance with the Inquisition’s main forces. Why not use them?” He was being forced to draw at straws; Da’ean knew it, and so did Gaat.

“Because the Venatori would have seen you coming and run. They’d schedule a shipment for later and our spies might not know when or where.” Gaat paused, his expression souring. “This is risky yes. But it’s our best chance to destroy the shipping operation permanently.” 

Bull was giving Da’ean an odd look and the elf relented. He didn’t like it, but Gaat was right; this would be the best shot. “Let’s go hold up our end of the bargain then.”

Gaat smirked, “My agents suggested two possible locations the Venatori may be camped to guard the shore.” Gaat pointed into the forest. “There… and there.” Gaat refocused his attention, bring Bull back into their conversation. “We’ll need to split up and hit both at once.”

“I’ll come with you Boss. Krem can lead the Chargers. Let me fill him in, come by when you’re ready to move.” Bull strode over to the Chargers, leaving Da’ean alone with Gaat. The other elf unnerved Da’ean, with his plain face and cold eyes. He was a living reminder of what Da’ean could have been. Da’ean left the tent under which they’d been standing to see if he could scout out any movement in the dense foliage.

A pair of hands rested themselves on Da’ean’s shoulder, kneading out the stress they found there. “I apologize for my words earlier, they were uncalled for.” Dorian was quite, probably because he didn’t want Gaat to overhear him. 

Da’ean tipped his head to the side to meet Dorian’s eyes. “It’s alright, no lasting harm was done. And I really shouldn’t expect you to take insults to your homeland lying down.” Da’ean grinned impishly, taking Dorian’s hands from his shoulders as he turned to talk. The mage in front of him had a sheepish expression, and Da’ean knew he truly was apologetic. Da’ean glanced around; Bull was talking with the Chargers and Solas was off doing Creators knew what in the trees. The elf quickly raised Dorian’s hands to his lips and pressed a light kiss on the back of each one. “Truly it’s okay.”

Dorian smiled, the guilt in his eyes vanishing. “Alright, let’s go say hello to my fellow countrymen shall we?”

Da’ean caught Solas’s attention as they crossed the small clearing to Bull’s men. The Chargers were apparently closing up their talk as Bull was getting jittery. “Chargers, hit ‘em hard and hit ‘em fast. When this is over, drinks are on me.” 

The band roared, Krem’s “You got it Chief” barely carrying over. They broke up, Bull making his way over to where Dorian and Da’ean had stopped. “Ready when you are Boss.”

Bull looked ready for a fight, the brightness of battle-lust shining from his eye. “Let’s go get started then.” 

Gaat had started down the trail they would be following to the Venatori scouts and, eventually, the Venatori main camp. 

“Be careful, my agents said to expect opposition ahead of the main camp.”

The party came across a group of Venatori scouts within minutes. A smaller force, but one to be reckoned with all the same. The Venatori mages fought ferociously, but they were outclassed by the Inquisitor's closest companions. Solas’s rift magic, along with Dorian’s unique mixture of fire and lightning, decimated those out of Bull and Da’ean’s reach. With Bull acting as a large, deadly distraction, Da’ean was able to leap about smashing flasks and splintering enemies. Before the elf was even really out of breath, all of the Venatori scouts were dead on the forest floor. Slightly disappointed with how easy the fight had been, Da’ean wiped the blood and leftover ice off his blades on his leathers and sheathed them. 

“I don’t see any tattoos but you’re carrying a staff. Are you from a Chantry Circle?” Gaat’s question hung for a moment in the after battle quiet, before Solas answered it curtly. 

“No. And I would prefer not to discuss it.”

Gaat’s reply sounded both perplexed and amused. “Have I done something to offend you?”

“You joined the Qun.” Solas’s tone tilted upwards at the end, almost turning the remark into a question.

“After they rescued me from slavery.” Gaat’s voice was hard again, the earlier amusement disappearing like so much smoke. 

“And put you into something worse.” Solas was getting worked up now and for the life of him, Da’ean could not understand why the hedge mage took everything about the Qun as a personal affront. “A slave may always struggle for freedom, but you among the Qun have been taught not to think.”

Bull cut in before Da’ean could even open his mouth. “Solas, not the time.” Da’ean appreciated Bull stepping in, he didn’t want any hostilities growing between them and Solas wasn’t doing anything to help fulfill that agenda. Da’ean had brought the older elf because he’d thought Solas had enough sense to keep his mouth shut about somethings, but it was becoming clear Da’ean had been wrong. 

Dorian caught Da’ean’s eye and grimaced, he was picking up on the tension as well. They approached the next group of scouts, the last one before the camp, without any further discussions on philosophy.

The small force of Venatori they encountered was once again hopelessly outmanned by their group. Bull and Da’ean hit the front as one bloodthirsty wave. Da’ean only used three ice flasks by the time the last mage fell. It was almost too easy, fighting these low ranked Venatori. The ones out in the Hissing Wastes were much more difficult to defeat.

“Can you make out any of your mercenaries down there?” Gaat was cleaning the gore off his sword with the robe of a fallen Venatori. Barely glancing in Bull’s direction as he asked his question.

“Not from here. Probably a better view once we take the main Vint camp.” Bull was already continuing on, his great-axe back in its sheath across the Qunari’s back.

“Worried?” Now Gaat sounded condescending, like he was putting Bull down for caring. It grated on Da’ean’s nerves, Gaat was not in anyway proving himself to Da’ean when all he did was needle Bull and his actions.

“They’re my men. I’ve been with some of them for years.” Bull let his words fill with all the implications they could carry before following Da’ean up to the camp.

Gaat’s face contorted as Bull turned his back on him, and he continued after the rest of the party. “Get ready, we’re close.”

The main camp was big, with enough mages to put up a good fight. Da’ean smashed a fire flask and rushed with all of it’s energy, plunging his daggers into the mage directly in front of him. Blood gushed from the Venatori’s chest, arching as Da’ean ripped his blades out of him. Next to him, Bull was making mincemeat of another mage with his massive axe. Solas rained meteors down, killing several and mauling most of the rest. Dorian took out the last ones remaining with a few well placed lightning runes and fear hexes. 

Da’ean rolled his shoulders, flexing the leftover adrenaline out of his system. He peered about the camp, searching for any remaining Venatori. Satisfied, Da’ean sheathed his daggers and walked over to the signal fire. 

“We’re clear Gaat.” Bull stepped up between Da’ean and Gaat, looking over the bluff appraisingly.

“Right, signaling the dreadnought.” The bare-faced elf knelt next to the fire, but Da’ean wasn’t paying much attention to him. He was watching Bull, who in turn was watching the other shore. 

“Chargers already set theirs up, see ‘em down there?” Bull waved a hand in the vicinity of the other Venatori camp, and Da’ean could make out the Chargers roaming around it. 

Gaat stood, dusting his hands off on his pants. “I knew you gave them the easier job.” He looked disappointed almost, but Da’ean paid him no mind. Instead he was gazing out over the straight. “There’s the dreadnought.”

Bull relaxed in his stance, his face dropping its scowl into a faint smile. “That brings back memories.” Da’ean saw the dreadnought fire it’s first shot into the smuggler’s ship. Bull laughed beside him. “Nice one.”

Da’ean glanced away from the dreadnought to the shore under the Chargers captured camp. Bull must have done so too because he voiced Da’ean’s thoughts aloud. “Crap.”

A force of Venatori was approaching, too many for the Chargers to take on. But the group readied themselves anyway and Da’ean’s heart leapt into his throat. “They still have time to fall back if you signal them now.” 

Da’ean knew his face was torn with his indecision; he didn’t want Bull to abandon his people to follow Da’ean’s orders, yet… If they let the Chargers die it would be on Da’ean’s hands. Bull stared at Da’ean for a long moment before breaking away with a sharp turn of his head. “Yeah.”

“Your men need to hold that position Bull.” Gaat’s voice was firm, brooking no argument from the Qunari. 

Bull twisted to face him, his tone hard. “They do that, they’re dead.”

A rush of relief washed through Da’ean, Bull wanted the Chargers alive too. He wasn’t coercing the Qunari at all. 

“And if they don’t the Venatori retake it and the dreadnought is dead.” Gaat’s voice was pleading, “You’d be throwing away and alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari.” Bull tensed but Gaat continued on, his voice growing increasingly worried. “You’d be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth!” Bull just sneered at Gaat, Da’ean didn’t really know what Tal-Vashoth meant, but he was sure he’d heard Bull talk about it before. “With all you’ve given the Inquisition half the Ben-Hassrath think you’ve betrayed us already. I stood up for you Hissrad! I told them you’d never become Tal-Vashoth.”

Gaat paused to take a breath and Bull broke in angrily, “They’re my men.” 

Da’ean looked on as Gaat’s face fell. “I know. But you need to do what’s right Hissrad. For this alliance and for the Qun.” Fenedhis lasa, the Qun could shove it. Gaat’s repeated use of Bull’s title wasn’t lost on Da’ean, he was trying to pull him back and Da’ean would not have it. 

Bull turned back to Da’ean, his anguish palpable in the space between them. “Call the retreat.” Da’ean locked eyes with Bull as Gaat yelled behind them.

“Don’t!”

Bull raised the horn hanging from his hip to his lips and blew. The call echoed around them, and the Chargers on the bluff across them retreated. Bull smiled, the first one not born of bloodlust since they first meet Gaat. “They’re falling back.”

Gaat paced next to them, waving his hands in the air. “All these years Hissrad, and you throw away all that you are. For what? For this? For them?” Da’ean noticed Gaat’s glare in his direction as he ranted, and knew Gaat blamed him for Bull’s choice. Da’ean was done playing nice to the Qun and it’s agents; they no longer had any control over him or Bull. 

“His name is The Iron Bull.”

Gaat looked at Da’ean, face pinched. “I suppose it is.” He stalked off, leaving Bull and Da’ean alone on the cliff face. 

The Venatori mages opened fire on the dreadnought and Bull sighed heavily. “No way they’ll get out of range. Won’t be long now.”

Sorrow laced Bull’s voice and Da’ean felt it pierce it’s way through his chest. “Bull, when the dreadnought sinks.”

Bull tilted his head to look at him. “Sink? Qunari dreadnoughts don’t sink.” 

A loud roar rocked the shoreline as the dreadnought exploded. Da’ean didn’t look away from Bull; who sighed again with his eyes on the dreadnoughts smouldering remains. “Come on, let’s get back to my boys.”

It took a few hours to make their way back to their own camp and night fell as they traveled. By the time they arrived, a fire was crackling in the center tents and people surrounding it. Da’ean turned his back on the warm glow, choosing instead to head straight for the tent he shared with Dorian. 

“Why did you set up so far away?” Dorian wasn’t quite whispering but it was a close thing. 

Da’ean bit his lip, “I find solace in the quiet, away from everyone else. I was hoping Bull could find it in us.” Da’ean fixed his eyes on the ground, not wanting to look at Dorian.

“So you had noticed.” Bull approached them, the light from the campfire flickering behind him. 

Da’ean opened his mouth, and then shut it again like a fish out of water. He met Bull’s eye, the former spy meeting his gaze without qualm. “I was worried, but I didn’t want my actions to come between you and your people.” Da’ean’s eyes burned with sudden tears, but he refused to let them fall. “I’m sorry Bull.” 

Bull strode forward, wrapping his arms securely around Da’ean. “It was my choice.” 

Da’ean drew a shaky breath, and nodded. Bull let his arms drop slowly, and Dorian ushered them into the tent. Da’ean noticed the extra bedding in the center of the tent as he entered, and he shot a questioning look at Dorian. Dorian just shrugged, “What, you’re not the only one who was suspicious.”

They settled themselves in pile of furs, Bull in the middle with Da’ean and Dorian sitting on either side of him. Da’ean rested his head on Bull’s shoulder, sighing. “Bull, what did Gaat mean when he said you’d be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth?”

Bull huffed, his grip Da’ean’s thigh shifting upwards. “I defied the Qun to save my men. Means I’m no longer a part of it. I’m Tal-Vashoth. Tal-Va-fucking-shoth.”

Dorian laced his fingers with Bull’s, meeting the former spy’s eye. “You acted like a Tal-Vashoth for years. That didn’t change you, neither does this.”

Bull held tightly to Dorian’s hand. “That was just a role. This is my life. As one of those…” Bull shook his head and Da’ean laid a hand on his chest. “I killed hundreds of Tal-Vashoth in Seheron. Bandits, murderers, bastards who turned their back on the Qun. And now I’m one of them.”

Da’ean let his head drop until he was resting in the crook of Bull’s neck, his hand flexing on Bull’s chest. “You are not Tal-Vashoth. That word is a part of the Qun, and you don’t have to be anymore.” Da’ean looked up and locked eyes with Bull, putting everything he felt for him into his words. “You are The Iron Bull, and you belong here, with us.” 

Bull trembled under Da’ean’s hand, and the mercenary gave him a sad smile. “I can live with that.”

Dorian pressed a kiss to Bull’s shoulder, “You’re a good man Bull, they were fools not to see it.” 

Bull shifted his gaze to Dorian, brittle hope lining his face. “Whatever I miss, whatever I regret. This is where I want to be.” 

Bull kissed Dorian fiercely, the smaller mage arching up into it. They separated after a moment, breathing heavily. Bull turned his attention to Da’ean, pulling the elf almost completely in his lap before kissing him with the same fervor. Da’ean poured everything he had into Bull, receiving back a sweetness he had not expected. Bull broke away first, leaning down to rest his forehead against Da’ean’s. 

“We have a long ride tomorrow to meet up with Harding, you both need to rest.” Bull’s voice was husky, and Da’ean could feel Bull’s chest rumble with it. 

However much the elf wanted to stay up, he knew Bull was right. He also knew Bull was deflecting dealing with more emotional fallout. Da’ean would let him have it, it would do no good if he tried to push Bull into anything. Their day had been tiring as well; the Venatori mages, though small in number had put up a fight. Not to mention all of the walking to and from their camps. 

Tomorrow they would go meet up with Harding to check up on some red Templars found in the area. Once done with that they would be going with Hawke to meet up with his Warden friend in Crestwood. Da’ean slipped under the bedding with Bull and Dorian, the next month would be outrageously busy and Da’ean knew they would have all of the time in the world to figure things out more solidly on the roads. 

As Da’ean’s thoughts drifted off towards sleep, Bull’s hand on him curled, his fingers pressing into the soft skin. The elf smiled, turning into Bull to bury his face in the Qunari’s side. Da’ean wasn’t too worried about what would come next, with the two fighters sleeping next to him, he was sure they could weather any storm the Creators threw their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little late, and probably not my best. I've been apartment hunting all week and haven't had time to really edit this part. So if you see any mistakes or anything let me know.


	7. In the still of the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is extremely late. Life kicked my ass last month and I had absolutely no down time. Also this chapter has some really vague references to past rape/noncon, its a fairly obvious build if you want to skip it and its not descriptive at all but I wanted to give some warning if that's a trigger for anyone.

Da’ean was running, had been running for as long as he could remember. Chest burning Da’ean felt as though he was breathing fire. The thick air didn’t move with him as he ran making it seem like he wasn’t moving in the pitch black. It was as confusing as it was horrific, lending to a growing sense of fear settling in Da’ean’s stomach. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything except run with the smooth mud squelching beneath his toes. 

Terror clogged Da’ean’s throat, there was something behind him. He could feel the hot, sticky breath of it stirring his hair, yet never coming closer. He kept running, yet it never grew farther away either. An eternity passed in the heinous darkness, and still Da’ean was running. It was beginning to wear on him, the endlessness breaking down all of the strength he had. 

Da’ean spared a thought to stopping, to giving up and letting the beast take him. The moment he did hoarse laughter issued from the darkness surrounding him. “You are weak elfling.” The voice came from every direction, the blackness in which he ran trembling with it. The words themselves pierced their way through Da’ean, chilling him to his core. “So easy to push aside, you’ve given up your fight already.”

Da’ean’s legs wobbled unsteadily beneath him. The thing was speaking to him in Elvhen, and never had he wished for his native language to cease as he did now. Da’ean continued his race through the mud, his toes growing numb as his legs grew weaker. Whatever monster that was behind him didn’t bother to speak up again as Da’ean renewed his efforts to get away, just let out another gravelly chuckle. 

Da’ean’s chest was heaving, great lungfuls of stale air passing in and out of his lungs. The damp breath on his neck spurred him onwards, ever onwards in the infinite dark. As he continued, the mud dried under his feet, the ground turning to prickly grass and loose twigs. He must be moving then, must be headed somewhere in the dark. And if he was moving, it meant there was a chance for him to escape the creature behind him. 

Empowered by this revelation, Da’ean increased his pace, his aching body responding to him with haste. Off somewhere out of sight a wolf howled, giving Da’ean a wash of strength. The beast behind him growled, agitated by the noise. “You are alone child. No one will come to your aide.” The thing’s voice rasped around him, but Da’ean payed it heed no longer. He was used to solitude, and holding his own. And he was no longer alone. 

A light sparked into existence and Da’ean would have wept if he had the strength. The grass through which he had been running grew thicker, a padding of leaves and vines catching at his toes. Bushes began appearing in his path, the rough scraggly edges of them scratching his skin. 

Da’ean continued, legs pumping and lungs searing. A vine crept around his foot, causing him to tumble face first into the underbrush. It was a rough fall, and it lasted for longer than it should have. Time was stretching in this cruel nightmarish forest. Guttural laughter echoed around him. “The strength of the Inquisition is wasted in your incompetent hands.”

Da’ean picked himself up, wobbling unsteadily. The light in the distance was unblinking, unwavering in the dark. Da’ean started moving again; slowly at first, sloughing through the tough brambles, then faster with every foot fall. Soon he was darting through the forest, getting deep enough for small branches of the trees to whip across his face and arms.

As he ran, the pinprick of light grew larger, and the creature behind him growled. The fear which had been dragging its claws through Da’ean’s chest was abating, receding further as the light drew closer. As the light grew it changed in color; it had started out as a dusky gold, now however it was deepening to a rich burnt orange. It began to flicker, and Da’ean could hear faint popping and crackling.

Da’ean crashed through the last of the brush, almost causing him to pitch forward with the unexpected free air. The beast behind him roared, shaking the leaves in the trees with the force of its ardent bellow. The source of the blessed light showed itself to be a campfire, one a few situated around a medium sized camp. A camp whose main feature was its cages.

Da’ean gasped as his reality shifted around him; there was no warning, no stopping. He was a child again, and he had been captured like a wild beast. Da’ean was in a cage, the solid iron bars scorching hot in the midday sun. Wooden slats leaving long, jagged splinters in the bottoms of his feet and the palms of his bound hands. Da’ean flexed his hands, the rope tied around his wrists digging into his skin. 

A scarred, pockmarked face loomed in between the bars, rank breath washing over Da’ean’s face. Da’ean snarled, scuttling backwards on his hands. Until he bumped into something warm. A startled noise issued behind him, followed by a small head placing itself on his shoulder. 

“Isa’ma’lin?” Her voice, when remembered, so usually full of joy and vibrance; was weak and croaky. Da’ean felt all of the blood rush from his face, leaving him pale and shaky. 

“Ashalle? Te’telsila ar ama da’hale.” All of Da’ean’s breath was caught in his lungs, making his voice rough. 

The slaver outside the cage sneered at them, showing his rotting teeth. “Maker damned elves.” He ran a dagger along the thick bars of the door, causing a loud clanking. 

Another face joined the pockmarked one, this one had greasy hair covering a thin rat-like face. “If you want to play with them there are better ways to scare them.” The thin one gave them a lecherous grin. “They’re already marked for sale, might as well try out the goods.” The man took the keys hanging from his waist and unlocked the only barrier between them. 

Da’ean’s stomach dropped out of him, leaving an empty, terrified pit. The greasy haired slaver wrapped a hand around Da’ean’s ankle and pulled, hard. Da’ean kicked at the man, trying desperately to get out of his grip. It was futile, the slaver ripped him out of the cage and dropped him onto the spongy ground. 

The air in Da’ean’s lungs left in a huff as he hit, leaving him gasping in pain. The short one, the one with a knife reached in after Ashalle and Da’ean screamed at him. “Banal! No! Hurt me, hurt me instead. Don’t touch her.” His voice clawed its way out of his throat, rendering lines of pain as it left.

The pockmarked one just sneered and continued reaching in anyway, dragging Ashalle out beside him. “Ashalle!” Da’ean fought with the thin man, biting at him fiercely. The slaver slapped him, and yanked Da’ean away from his sister. 

“You wanted us to hurt you, did you.” The slaver slapped him again, rattling Da’ean’s teeth in his skull. “We can do that.”

Ashalle screamed, somehow sounding far away and faint. Da’ean yelled, “Ashalle” again, but it was useless. The rat faced man pushed his head into the dirt, and Da’ean’s vision blurred. The world spun and Da’ean heard a small voice in the distance. “Amatus. It’s just a nightmare.” 

It was familiar, and Da’ean used it as a lifeline, anchoring himself far away from what was happening. Tears blurred Da’ean’s vision as pain exploded in him, he cried out and again heard the familiar voice. “Please wake up amatus.”

Da’ean blinked once, and then again. His shoulders were shaking, were being shaken. “Come on Boss, fight it.”

Da’ean woke with a start, gasping as he curled up protectively. Strong hands grasped his shoulder, clenching as they saw Da’ean waking. Da’ean shuddered, broken flashes of long buried memories still lingering around his mind. 

A gentle hand was laid on his chest, directly over his heart. Da’ean’s eyes flew open, he hadn’t even known they were still closed, and he was immediately engulfed by Dorian’s worried gaze. Da’ean was panting heavily, his chest heaving with them, and Dorian kept his hand over Da’ean’s heart.

“Bad memories Boss?” Da’ean could feel Bull’s deep voice rumble through him, helping him calm his racing heart beat.

“You could say that.” Da’ean’s voice was rusty, having to force its way out of a swollen throat. Dorian’s hand grew warm on his chest, a faint golden glow escaping out from under it. A curious sense of peace started to settle over Da’ean; cooling his feverish skin and soothing his still rapid heart. 

Dorian lifted his other hand to Da’ean’s face, gently wiping away the tears Da’ean became aware of in that moment. They were still falling, a thin sheen of damp betraying him. Da’ean’s ragged breathing was evening out with every passing moment under Dorian’s hands however. Bull’s hands migrated from his shoulder to his hair, carding through the long red locks with tender care. A long moment passed in silence as Da’ean quieted, regaining his awareness as his nightmare bled from his mind like so much poison. 

Once his heart was no longer trying to beat its way out of his chest; Dorian’s hand lost its glow and the concern in his eyes faded. “Are you alright amatus?” His hand curled against Da’ean’s chest, fingers pressing into the light fabric of the elf’s sleeping tunic. “You were yelling, in Common and Elvhen.” 

Da’ean dropped his eyes, shame rippling across his skin. Dorian’s thumb was still running across his cheek, bringing a small level of comfort to Da’ean. “Do you want to talk about it.” Dorian’s eyes held no pity when Da’ean finally gathered the courage to look into them, Bull’s hands in his hair never stilling. 

Da’ean laughed weakly, the sound broken in his throat. “No, but I probably should.’ Bull dropped a kiss onto the top of Da’ean’s head, easing away some of the lingering doubt in Da’ean’s mind.

“You kept repeating an Elvhen word, Ashalle.” Bull’s voice was muted, carrying just far enough for Da’ean and Dorian to hear him. 

Da’ean was grateful for Bull giving him a place to start, a place to gather his thoughts around in the chaos of his mind. He shifted in Bull’s lap, turning to press his face against Bull’s stomach. Dorian moved against him; withdrawing his hands to move up along the bed, soft sheets bunching around them. Da’ean shivered and Bull pulled him up against his chest, repositioning them until they were all sitting, with Da’ean curled against him.

Da’ean took a deep breath, and reached for Dorian’s hands. Dorian clasped their fingers together tightly, almost bruising in their strength. Da’ean appreciated the gesture, the feeling grounding him to them and he smiled waterly. He took another steadying breath, wanting to steel himself.”Ashalle means halla hearted. It’s a name.” Da’ean felt his face crumble slightly, “Was a name.” Dorian’s grip grew harder for a split second, his gaze sombering.

“In the clan, my family was big, there were three children to my parents. They were hunters, providers for the whole clan.” Da’ean could feel himself start to relax in Bull’s arms; older, happier memories surfacing within him. “They were often gone, leaving with the rest of the hunters for a few days at a time. But it was alright; my older sister, Idrilla, took care of me, and eventually, Ashalle.” Da’ean smiled, and Dorian ran a thumb across his knuckles. 

“Idrilla is… fierce. She doesn’t ever take no as an answer and is always on the move. She got into more trouble with Keeper istimaethoriel than I did.” Da’ean leaned his head over to his right, resting it on Bull’s arm. “I was ten when she lit her first tree in fire, with magic. Our Keeper was excited and horrified. Our clan didn’t have any other mages, and she was getting worried there would be no one to take on as an apprentice. Idrilla was made First when she was thirteen and started her apprenticeship under the Keeper. 

“She loved it, but it meant she was busy all the time, so it fell to me to watch over Ashalle. Our baby sister.” Da’ean stiffened imperceptibly, an unconscious tensing of his body. “Ashalle was three years younger than me, and she was the kindest child I’ve ever seen. Always mild mannered, never spoke harshly like most children do. She spent more time with the halla than she did with us.” 

Dorian didn’t stop rubbing his thumb over Da’ean’s knuckles, the soothing motion sending warmth flowing up Da’ean’s arm. “Once, when I was fifteen and she was twelve, we were sent to pick up some medicinal herbs. It would be an easy day trip, just the two of us.” Da’ean shivered, feeling a cold creep along his limbs despite the warmth of Bull and Dorian surrounding him. 

“We weren’t going very far, just a couple hours walk from the Aravels. Ashalle and I even finished early, and she found a meadow.” Da’ean took a deep breath. “Ashalle wanted to stay out for awhile longer; she used to make these crowns out of the clover we could find sometimes and she wanted to bring one back for Mae and Bae.”

Da’ean could feel his fingers start to shake, fear begin to trickle in. “I should have said no, should have taken her back to the clan, to safety.” Da’ean grit his teeth. “I didn’t, I let her gather her clover and start braiding it. I let my guard down, and didn’t keep a look-out.” Bull’s strong arms tightened around Da’ean as he pressed himself closer to the Qunari.

“We were surrounded within minutes, and I’m sure we presented an ideal target. Two kid elves picking flowers in a forest.” Da’ean’s voice grew bitter in his mouth. “There were six of them and two of us, and I only had my bow. It must have been child's play for them to catch us.” 

Dorian’s grip on Da’ean’s hands became painful, and Da’ean forced all of his concentration onto the feeling. “It was a nightmare, we couldn’t wake up from. They branded us on our first night and abused us on most of the others.” Da’ean shuddered in Bull’s arms, and the large warrior placed another kiss on the crown of his head. 

Da’ean’s heart had once again started to pick up in it’s pace, thudding against his ribs with painful force. “They held us for a month before our scouts found us. We… We weren’t in great shape, but when the hunters of our clan came to free us, we fought back against the slavers.” 

The breath in Da’ean’s lungs caught, he was rushing, trying not to linger on anything which could send him spiralling into the yawning abyss in his own mind. “Ashalle.” His voice broke in his throat, coming out jagged and rough. “Ashalle tried to fight one, he’d been following after us since we got out of our cage. I told her no, I told her to run.” 

Da’ean could feel new tears start to burn in his eyes. He squeezed them shut, breathing heavily. Dorian slid his hands up Da’ean’s arms, spreading a feeling of comfort and security in their wake. Da’ean shuddered out a breath, opening his slightly wet eyes to stare at Dorian. The mages face was distraught, a thin shine of tears present in his own eyes. 

Dorian’s hands on him lent Da’ean the strength to continue. “She couldn’t even pick up the sword she had grabbed. The slaver following us caught up with us quickly. I tried to push her out of the way, but I was too slow.” A single tear slid down Da’ean’s face, and Dorian brought up a hand to cup his cheek. “She died right in front of me and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Da’ean choked on his breath, his chest to small to contain everything he felt in that moment. The old anguish of Ashalle’s death, muted only slightly by the passage of time, was fading as he was held by Dorian and Bull. New feelings of comfort and security were enfolding him, something he had never expected to feel again. But the self blame was still lodged in him, and it reared its head with a vengeance.

“It was all my fault. I let my sister die, I should.” Dorian clamped a hand over Da’ean’s mouth, not allowing him to finish. 

“None of what happened was your fault.” Bull’s tone was firm, and Da’ean could practically hear the frown on his face. “You didn’t order them to attack, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He continued, his deep voice smoothing out some of the last few jagged edges of Da’ean’s conscious. 

“I know you amatus, if you could have done anything to protect your sister, you would have done it no matter the cost to you. You’re nothing if not brave.” The mages voice was a soft as his fingers gliding across Da’ean’s cheeks, releasing his hold over Da’ean’s mouth.

Warmth blossomed in Da’ean’s chest, driving out all of his dark, cold, bitter thoughts from his mind. “There are still a few hours until Josephine will be demanding you for dance lessons. Do you want to try to go back to sleep?” 

Da’ean didn’t even pause to consider Bull’s proposal. They were all exhausted from gallivanting across Ferelden and Orlais tracking down the Wardens. The Western Approach had been a disaster, with Erimond escaping and fleeing to Adamant. Cullen had commandeered the War Room with plans and maps for the upcoming siege on the Grey Warden stronghold. It was wearing on all of them, not to mention all of the political maneuvering Josephine was currently navigating to arrange for them to go to the ball in Halamshiral. 

Da’ean sighed heavily, “I’d love to try ma’isenatha.” Dorian smiled at him, withdrawing his hands from Da’ean. Bull shifted until both he and Da’ean were laying flat again, Da’ean nestled on Bull’s vast chest. Dorian settled down on Bull’s other side, and draping an arm over the Qunari’s chest to slide his fingers in between Da’ean’s.

Da’ean took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Sleep was already dragging his eyes shut, the earlier turmoil fading into the night, his scattered emotions refusing until Da’ean couldn’t remember a time when he felt more at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so since school will be starting up again soon and I'll be moving next week, my chapters are going to be coming out a little slower. Just a heads up and trust me I will finish this thing, it just might happen a little slower than I originally thought.
> 
> Edit: sorry I totally forgot to post the translation
> 
> Isa'ma'lin- Brother  
> Ashalle? Te’telsila ar ama da’hale- Ashalle? Don't worry, I'll protect you little fennec
> 
> Da'ean's really likes nicknames, and since Ashalle almost never gets into trouble he calls her the thing which is most often causing trouble for the clan. He thinks he's funny.


	8. through the looking glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adamant is a real bitch for everyone involved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck look at that a new chapter, sorry this took literally forever. I had my ass handed to me by school and other assorted associations. I am not giving up on this, don't worry it will be finished. It just may take longer than I originally thought.

The glow of a hundred campfires illuminated the Approach with a flickering light. Da’ean could appreciate their warmth if he moved closer, but he wanted to keep his gaze out over the stars; trying to find the patterns Idrilla loved so dearly. The shifting of the constellations from the Marches was minimal, and it was easy to locate Fervanis and Solium.  He shifted, leaning back on his hands and tilting his neck to better appreciate them without getting a crink.

 

“Freckles, you’re up late.” Varric plopped himself down next to Da’ean, heaving a great fake sigh as he did so.

 

“Hey Varric,” Da’ean greeted the dwarf quietly, not looking away from the night sky. “What are you doing up? Were you on watch or something?”

 

“Or something, Hawke said he didn’t want to lose anymore hands of Wicked Grace to me and kicked me out.”

 

Da’ean huffed a laugh, dropping his head down to look at Varric. The dwarf was sprawling slightly, and even though they were in dim firelight, his eyes were a bit too shadowed to be telling the whole truth.

 

Varric was probably slogging through doubts and fears similar to those Da’ean had muddling his past, albeit doubts and fears concerning different parties. Hawke and Varric had been through some tough shit together, and now they were right back where they thought they'd never be again. Beyond his boisterous personality, Varric was a steadfast friend, and if anything he was probably worried sick about Hawke going into Adamant with them. Hawke was an exception, a hero who lived through his ordeal. By going back into the thick of things as they were, he was once again testing his luck, and even the luck of exceptional heroes runs out eventually.

 

“Is Wicked Grace the only reason you’re up this late?”

 

Varric grinned, “Sure enough, are Tiny and Sparkler the ones keeping you awake?”

 

The pleasant feeling in Da’ean’s chest chilled, doubt sliding back into its place. If Varric was trying to push the conversation away from himself and his worries, there was no way he would accept any help Da’ean could offer.  “Not for the reasons you’re hoping for.” He tried to smirk in Varric’s direction, but the expression slipped.

 

Varric patted his knee, the fatherly action rekindling some of Da’ean’s former warmth. “You’ll be fine Freckles, you’ve got a whole army behind you.”

 

Da’ean smiled at Varric and this time, his face did what he told it to. “Thanks Varric, I’ll just be glad when we’re back in Skyhold.”

 

“You and me both kid, Warden shit gives me the creeps.”

 

Knees creaking from the cold and sitting still for so long, Da’ean stood to leave. The elf cast one more glance towards the sky, and called a farewell to Varric, before heading back to the tent he was sharing with Bull and Dorian.

 

It was still dark inside, and Da’ean could hear Dorian’s light snores even though the mage still persisted he didn’t snore. Da’ean smiled softly, Dorian must still be curled around Bull, another thing he insisted he didn’t do. They both had been fast asleep when yet another nightmare had shaken Da’ean from his rest; and he had ventured out of their tent, seeking not to wake them as well.

 

Da’ean began shucking off the outermost layer of his leathers, keeping the soft padding underneath it on to stave off some of the chill. A tremble shivered it’s way through Da’ean’s body, as some of the cold air landed on his warm skin, and he ran his hands up and down his arms.

 

“Cold Boss?”

 

Da’ean jumped, squinting slightly in the dark to find Bull’s eye open and only slightly dulled by sleep. “Nothing so drastic that you can’t warm me.” Da’ean’s smile grew lopsided as he knelt to pull back the fur covering Bull’s side, taking a moment to hover over Bull, allowing his eyes to trace a path across Bull’s face. Following the line from his eye down his nose before landing on his lips.

 

Maybe some of the worry he’d been feeling earlier had lingered as Da’ean was suddenly overcome with the sheer miraculousness of Bull’s continuous existence. Da’ean knew Bull was tough, strong in all the ways he looked and a few in ways he didn’t. There was no point in Da’ean worrying because he didn’t have to, Bull could take care of himself. Had in fact for long before they had ever met. Something warm fluttered deep in Da’ean’s chest, and he took care to avoid thinking about it, instead choosing to focus on the man below him.

 

Da’ean bit his lip, moving back up Bull’s face to find his eyes dark. Straining only a little, Da’ean placed a gentle kiss on Bull’s lips before tucking himself neatly beside the warm Qunari.

 

The silence is the tent prevailed as Bull’s only response to Da’ean’s frankly unusual actions was to pull Da’ean closer to him. It was new, this intimacy, they’d only been sharing the same bed for sleeping as well as fucking for just over a month, and only a handful of days more than a week since he had told them about his sister, and Da’ean found himself craving the intense feelings of safety he only found in the arms of his lovers. Even though Dorian had been more than skittish in the beginning and was still anxious when it came to either of them being caught being affectionate with him around others.

 

He nuzzled against Bull’s side, stretching himself along the length of Bull, reassuring himself of Bull’s solid presence. Bull’s fingers tangled themselves in Da’ean’s hair, one of his favorite habits, coming to rest on Da’ean’s back. The weight of his hand was welcome, dispelling the last of Da’ean’s rambling anxiety. Allowing him to relax and be overtaken by the sleep he’d been looking for.

 

__

 

Dragons, why must it always be a fucking dragon coming in from on high to smite whatever progress he might have accomplished. Da’ean barely had time to make out Erimond’s smug grin before the bastard was chased further into Adamant by Clarel.

 

Da’ean’s breath came in pants, and he wasn’t the only one. They were all fairly exhausted already from having to fight their way into to inner halls of the fortress; protecting the battlements and sparing what few Wardens they could had taken their tolls. Da’ean had hoped, had been praying with fervor, that they would be able to reason with Clarel and take down only Erimond. But now, they’d have to follow the two down into the heart of Adamant. Glorious.

 

They had no choice, Da’ean had to see this through, if Erimond’s rituals were successful there was no possible way for the Inquisition to beat both Corypheus’s main forces plus a whole new army of demons.

 

The dragon circled, once and then again, coming lower with each pass. They needed to move, get out of the beast’s way. Turning on his heel, Da’ean brought up the rear of the party with Bull; Dorian and Solas ahead of them, Da’ean snarled, they had to find Clarel and Erimond in this mess fast, before the dragon brought the fortress down around them.

__

 

The fall had been the worst part. A split second of time stretched into an eternity. Da’ean hadn’t even had time to react, his body moving and opening the rift before he could process what had happened. Just like that, they were in the Fade.

 

The stale, stagnant air of the place was choking Da’ean; his heart racing and his fear reflected in the eyes of his companions. The only one who was less than scared was Solas, the older elf’s face was reverent as he took in the Fade around them, searching for what Da’ean didn’t know and he didn’t think he wanted to guess either.

 

His attitude unsettled Da’ean, but he put in off quickly, there would be time to dwell on Solas’s oddities later. When they were out of this blasted Fade. And they would get out, he would make sure of it.

 

__

 

“Spiders!” Dorian’s yell sounded high, sharper than normal fear would forge his voice. Da’ean grabbed his daggers, unsheathing them as he spun to face the same direction as Dorian. He expected to find some monstrously sized creature to force such a sound from the normally undaunted mage.

 

Instead a horrific sight burned its ways into brain.  Dorian was wrong, there were no spiders. Da’ean was faced with the sight of his clan; his friends, his companions. They were all broken, disjointed, bloated atrocities.

 

“You can’t be here.”  Da’ean rasped, his tongue suddenly thick and fingers slack. A bitter shard of panic wedged itself in Da’ean’s chest.

 

How… why… There was nothing to bring them here. They _could not_ be here. They _should_ not be here in this putrid hell.

 

He’d failed them, it was the only explanation. He had allowed them to die, he had failed to protect them. Pain flared in his chest as his heart seized fiercely, his limbs losing all strength. There was nothing he could do now, nowhere for him to turn, no way to right this impossible wrong.

 

“Boss!” Bull’s shout rang through the fog beginning to settle in Da’ean’s vision.

 

Willing his hands to stop shaking, Da’ean readjusted his grip on his blades. A nightmare wearing Linayel’s face was crawling towards him; not even able to walk, it raked its way forward on shaking, swollen, seeping limbs. “You are not real.”

 

The vision before him was a parody, a blackened image of a nightmare. Da’ean sliced through the delicate skin and hard bone of the nightmare’s neck, severing its head from its shoulders. A violent wave of nausea rocked Da’ean. It had been more than a decade since his first kill, longer still since the sight of blood made him squeamish. Nothing he had seen before prepared him for the sickening splat of his _nas’falon’s_ head hitting the spongy ground.

 

“Inquisitor?” Da’ean’s head shot up, he’d been staring at the head and hadn’t even noticed. Stroud nodded behind them, there were more of the things coming in, they would have to move or be overwhelmed.

 

“Let’s move.” Only by some of Mythal’s everlasting grace did his voice not waver in the slightest.

 

__

 

Calf deep in Fade sludge, Da’ean placed a porcelain garland on a skeleton, the spirits newfound peace washing over him. He closed his eyes and lowered his head; these people may already have passed, but they still needed guidance. “ _Lethanavir, raj’varithelan, ea el’ghi’lan. Ove tel’run alas’enala, i tel’syl tarasylen_.” The prayer was murmured quietly, only meant to be heard by the departing spirit.

 

Da’ean didn’t know if the spirit was Elvhen, or even if Falon’din could hear him. But if there was any place the god might answer his prayers, it would be in the place where he’d been banished to all those centuries ago.

 

A warm hand on his shoulder alerted him to his company. Da’ean reached up to grab Dorian’s hand, to offer and take what reassurance he could.

 

__

 

“You’ll fail the Inquisition just like you failed your sister.” The silken voice of the Nightmare sent shivers running up Da’ean’s spine. He couldn’t explain the sense of _wrong_ the voice gave him, even as the words it spoke wriggled their way into Da’ean’s thoughts like worms. The lie based on truth; how many times had he told himself it was his fault before, how many nights had he spent in fear of his own incompetence and inability to protect those he cared about. How long must he carry this guilt, a month ago he would have thought he would never be free of it. Helpless to his terror.

 

Now; as he saw the snarl on Dorian’s lips, the hard glint in Bull’s eye, the outrage pouring out from Solas’s entire body, he knew, he _knew_ it was not through any fault of his own. His soiled past was not something he could change, but right here, right now, he could move on. He could chose to leave everything that burdened him in the hands of those who came with him. He could ease the burdens they carried without fear of making things worse.

 

“Doubt me all you want, but you know the truth. It’s your fault the slavers caught her, and it will be your fault when Corypheus captures the world.” The Nightmare must be feeling desperate, it had already gone after Hawke and Stroud, and now it was focusing solely on Da’ean. The breath-warm air and disorienting light was causing him enough problems, but if the Nightmare grew bored of him, he would move on to his next target.

 

“If you think those are new thoughts Nightmare, you are dead wrong.” They were close, they had to be close to the rift. If Da’ean could hold his attention until they could flee, the rest of the part wouldn’t have to deal with it.

 

“I’ve accepted my mistakes, I know what I’ve done.” The hard knot of old anxiety in Da’ean’s chest was gradually unravelling; his newfound beliefs, hard won and solid, slowing taking its place. “I am stronger for knowing myself, what about you Nightmare? What have you done that you regret, what things haunt your dreams?”

 

Dorian next to him shot him a quick smile, one Da’ean returned. The Nightmare ahead of them was nothing they couldn’t face together. Even as the sky shook around them.

 

__

  


A soft thud, shuddered breaths, and the Nightmares’ aspect was dead before them. Abruptly a horrid scream rent the air around them. Out of the murky dark a colossal shadow rose, growing larger and clearer with each passing heartbeat.

 

“Run!” Da’ean shouted, tugging his dagger out of the aspects cooling corpse. He hastily wiped it off on his leathers before shoving it back into its sheath. Glancing around, Da’ean saw Dorian and Solas running through the open rift ahead of them, followed closely by Bull. He breathed a quick sigh of relief before the earth convulsed beneath him, knocking him to the ground.

 

“Inquisitor!” Hawkes’ voice came from before him, and Da’ean’s vision wavered, seeing double for a moment he scrambled to his feet only to find a giant macabre imitation of a spider now guarding the only way out of this catastrophe.

 

“We’re going to need a distraction.” Stroud unsheathed his sword, bringing up his shield as he did so.

 

“Oh no, Corypheus is my responsibility, if anyone is staying back it’ll be me.” Hawkes’ glare could have melted dawnstone, let alone his white knuckled grip on his daggers giving him a malevolent aura.

 

Stroud didn’t waver, calmly gazing back at Hawke. “This is a Grey Warden matter, a Grey Warden should be the one to stay.”

 

“Enough.” Da’ean raised a hand to his head, still spinning slightly from his fall. “No one else is dying on my watch.”

 

Hawke and Stroud glanced quickly at one another, and Da’ean narrowed his eyes at them. Now was not the time for dissent, they needed to figure out a way to distracted the blighted Nightmare before it found them and devoured them.

 

“It has been an honor Inquisitor.” Stroud bent at the waist, bowing his head in Da’ean’s direction.

 

And promptly turning and running towards the Nightmare with a great shout, as Hawke grabbed Da’ean’s arm, wrenching him along as Hawke bolted toward the rift.

 

“Stroud!” Da’ean struggled against Hawkes’ vise-like grip. “If he stays he’s a dead man.” He hissed at Hawke, trying to slow him down.

 

“And if he doesn’t we all die and the only person who can close the rifts is gone. Thedas needs you alive, even if you don’t want to be.” His voice was stiff, and his hold on Da’ean loosened as he sagged.

 

“Alright. Fine.” Da’ean spared Stroud one last glance as Hawke jumped through the rift back to the physical world. “ _Din'anshiral halam'shivanas, ir abelas, dareth shiral mirthadra falon_.” Da’ean closed his eyes and followed Hawke through the glowing hole in reality.

 

_

  


Nightfall found Da’ean pacing along the upper battlements of Adamant. Anger tore itself through him; anger at himself for being unable to save Stroud, anger at Hawke for not allowing him to stay behind, anger at the Nightmare for carving trenches in heart with its cruel and clever tongue.

 

Even knowing he was alone, Da’ean couldn’t drop his guard. His shoulders hunched and his hands curled into fists, how would anyone be able to follow him now. He was a complete failure, he had allowed Stroud to die, someone he had sworn to protect against Corypheus as he helped the Inquisition. Once again he had failed to keep his word, once again the world had bared its teeth at him and shown him to be inferior.

 

Screaming his rage, Da’ean turned and slammed his curled fist into the stone wall of the barrier beside him. The white noise of the pain spiraling up his arm as his fingers cracked and knuckles bled swallowed up his thoughts, leaving his mind peacefully blank. Sucking in a deep breath Da’ean shut his eyes and drew his now limp hand to his chest.

 

He knew it wasn’t truly his fault, he was not the weak little child the Nightmare thought him to be. The knowing of it didn’t take away the fear, it didn’t ease any of the deep trembling anxiety in his heart. Drawing in another bracing lungful of cold desert air, Da’ean slowly opened his eyes. Only to find Bull standing in front of him, a frown creasing his face.

 

“Bull, I.. I’m just..” Da’ean faltered, anger bleeding out of him swiftly replaced by shame. He sighed, turning his face away from Bull to look down to the desert sand below them. A bitter gust of wind blew across the ramparts, ruffling Da’eans’ hair and hiding the sound of Bull’s quick steps in its shallow whisperings.

 

Bull wrapped arms around Da’ean’s shoulders, drawing him close without saying a word. Relief flooded Da’ean, and his eyes burned with sudden tears. Sinking into the warmth of Bull’s embrace, Da’ean allowed himself to grieve, to cave in against the onslaught of roiling pain threatening to overwhelm him and not be ashamed for it.

  
Da’ean was safe, here in the arms of his ' _lath_ , there would be no judgement, only acceptance. He let go, quietly weeping onto Bull, the biting wind no longer able to chill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yea, Da'ean doesn't really get any breaks, the poor kid. But the next chapter I have some nice outlines for and he will have a good while to relax and take it easy, kinda. comments and concrit always welcome.
> 
> nas'falon: soul friend, a word for a friends stronger than best friends, close to queer platonic.  
> Lethanavir, raj’varithelan, ea el’ghi’lan. Ove tel’run alas’enala, i tel’syl tarasylen - prayer to Falon'Din, or a prayer for the dead: Friend to the Dead, Guide my feet, calm my soul, Lead me to my rest  
> Din'anshiral halam'shivanas, ir abelas, dareth shiral mirthadra falon: literally 'a journey of death the sweet sacrifice of duty, im sorry, safe journey honored friend.' loosely what Da'ean means, 'the journey to your death is a sweet sacrifice of your duty, im sorry, farewell my honored friend.'


	9. Cold Air on Cooler Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... drops this in the middle of the night and runs away ...  
>  Sorry guys, I've been so busy with school I haven't had the chance to work on this, but again I promise it'll be finished!

The brisk air of the mountains blew sharply through Da’ean, the stolen linen of Dorian’s baggy casual clothes doing little to stop the flow of the chilled breeze. Da’ean welcomed the cold, could barely feel it at this point, having been sitting on the flat roof of the tavern for some odd hours now. The hard wooden shillings beneath him had long since driven his legs to sleep, Da’ean sighed wearily and shifted around, rubbing his hands along his thighs to start the blood flowing again. 

 

Weak winter sunlight was shining brightly off the snow surrounding Skyhold, the pins and needles in Da’ean’s legs keeping him occupied as he tried again to empty himself of the dread which had clawed its way deeply into his heart, not once leaving him alone since Adamant. Closing his eyes against the gleaming snow, Da’ean took a deep breath through his nose. 

 

Immediately, Stroud’s face flashed before him, his once friendly features twisted into a snarl. “You left me to die.” His voice harsh and raspy, and it left Da’ean colder than the wind ever could. “You abandoned me to that  _ thing _ .” 

 

Da’ean curled in on himself, digging his fingers into his scalp as his breath caught sharp in his lungs. “I didn’t have a choice, you ran off.” Even to himself the words still sounded weak, a cheap excuse. 

 

“Lies.” The not-Stroud hissed, “You should have stayed back.” 

 

Choking, Da’ean opened his eyes, blinking against the sudden brightness. This wasn’t going to work, he’d been trying to unravel this despair surrounding his mind for weeks. There was no way to make it right; he had killed Stroud and now he was trying to run away from what that made him. A monster.

 

Da’ean pressed his palms against his ears, trying to block out the whispers. Nothing he had tried so far worked, they were inside his head, worming their way deeper into his thoughts. 

 

The soft sound of boots on wood caused Da’ean to look up with a start. “Sera?” Out of those he knew at Skyhold, Sera was probably the only one Da’ean could count on to remain normal. “What are you doing up here?” 

 

“You’re on my roof yea, rolling about groaning. First I thought I’d leave ya to it, but you’ve been up here for awhile now right.” Sera plopped down next to Da’ean, no grace at all present in her movements. Some of the tension coiled up in Da’ean’s body loosened, leaving him more relaxed than he’d been in days. “Wassit all about?’

 

Da’ean folded his legs in front of him and wrapped his arms around his middle. “Nothing important really.”

 

“Nothing important my arse. You’ve been moping for days.” Da’ean shot her a glare, it was a fair point though, he should have known trying to save face in front of Sera was a waste of time. Sera just blew a raspberry at him. 

 

“Alright fine, remember Adamant?” Da’ean let his arms fall, placing them behind him and leaning back on them.

 

“Of course I remember, demons and shite.” Sera shuddered, “Uugh.”

 

Da’ean sighed, “Demons and shite is a great way to sum it up.” He paused, taking a moment to condense all of his thoughts. “When you almost shot me saying something about me being a demon, I honestly thought you were the only one who took that Fade shit seriously.” Da’ean shook his head, “Sorry, just, there’s so much going on anymore.” 

 

Sera punched his arm, hard. “We’re friends right, don’t be sorry. Or be a little sorry, ‘cus I don’t want to think about demons, but still. Friends.”

 

Da’ean smiled, a real smile, for the first time in what felt like an age. “Thanks Sera.” 

 

“Right, well you’re done moping and Widdle said something about me needing to see whatever she’s working on.” Sera grinned lopsidedly, before leaving Da’ean alone on the roof again.

 

The wind gusted this far up in the mountains, cold and harsh, blowing across Da’ean’s skin like so much ice. Da’ean smiled, maybe it was time to go inside. Standing, and creaking a little, he climbed up the rooftops, deciding to change clothes before heading to the library.

 

Once Da’ean had changed, he walked quickly through the foyer to avoid any nobles or Josephine who might be laying in wait for him, Da’ean passed Varric with a nodded hello and received a grin in response. He slowed down some when walking through Solas’s rotunda, “Hahren.” 

 

Solas didn’t even look up from the shard he was working with, “Da’len.” Da’ean smiled quietly to himself, heading up the stairs to Dorian’s alcove.

 

As he cleared the last step, Da’ean noticed Dorian scouring his bookcases with a hard line to his shoulders. Da’ean could hear him muttering as he got closer, and when Dorian actually noticed him, he didn’t bother to acknowledge him beside raising his voice slightly. 

 

“You have remarkably little here about early Tevinter history,” He paused, casting Da’ean a glance over his shoulder, “All these ‘gifts’ to the Inquisition and the best they can do is the  _ Malefica Imperium _ , trite propaganda.”

 

Da’ean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, the only books he’d ever seen in his life before coming to the Conclave were the ones the Keeper and Idrilla kept. He hadn’t even be able to read much of the shemlen Common until a few months ago when Josephine found him out and started teaching him. 

 

Dorian didn’t seem to notice, barely even taking a breath before continuing on, “But if you want twenty volumes on whether Divine Galatea took a shit on Sunday this is evidently the place to find it.”

 

“I..” Unbidden, Strouds face flashed behind Da’ean’s eyes, ‘ _ unwanted _ ’. “I can help you look?” 

 

Dorian scoffed, “I doubt you could find what I’m looking for here.” 

 

_ Oh _

 

His own uselessness come back to haunt him, cold unrelated to the bitter wind outside creeped into his chest. “Then, I ... I’ll leave you to your work..” The words felt heavy and clumsy in Da’ean’s mouth, and some of their weight must have shown as he said them, as Dorian stopped shelving books to turn to Da’ean. 

 

He reached over and placed a hand on Da’ean’s arm, “I’m sorry, that was.. Unworthy of me.” 

 

Da’ean brought his hand to rest it over Dorian’s, but didn’t look up choosing to keep his eyes fixed on the stone floor beneath them. “Have I done something to make you mad?”  

 

Dorian’s hand tightened on Da’ean’s bicep, “No, no I’m not angry.” He sighs heavily, then let go of Da’ean, retreating further back into his alcove, crossing his arms in front of himself. “We fell, physically, into the Fade” Leaning against the wall, Dorian looked at Da’ean, “Nothing like that has been done since the first Blight, and do you know what scared me the most the whole time we were in there,” His eyes were tight, and much too bright to be the fault of the light from the window, “You sent us back first, and didn’t follow.”

 

Da’ean approached Dorian like he would a startled halla, a single hand outstretched. Dorian didn’t move away from him, and Da’ean took it as permission to lay his hand over Dorian’s. 

 

“You didn’t follow, for minutes Da’ean, you didn’t step out of that rift.” Dorian’s hand under his was shaking ever so slightly, and Da’ean managed to look at Dorian’s face. “You stayed somewhere I couldn’t follow you back into.” Dorian’s eyes were shimmering with tears Da’ean knew he wouldn’t cry, not here in front of everyone he needed to remain aloof in front of. 

 

“Dorian...  _ Vhenan _ , I” Da’ean knit their fingers together, trying to find stability. “I’m sorry, I.. I meant to follow but, we.. We got cut off.” Outside the window, the sky was clear, the air cold. Yet all Da’ean could focus on was the sickly green of the Fade and feel of lukewarm water sloshing against his legs as he watched one of the long legs of the Nightmare strike the ground as Stroud sliced at it with his sword. He turned away from Dorian, fear and shame swirling into a sick feeling in his stomach.

 

He shuffled his feet, before taking a small step back, only the pull of Dorian’s fingers keeping him steady. “Ir abelas, Dorian, truly. I..” Da’ean cut himself off, drawing in on himself. 

 

A gentle tug, and Da’ean found himself wrapped in Dorian’s arms. Da’ean heard a muttered “I should have known” when he trembled. 

 

When Dorian had begun to feel like home Da’ean didn’t really know. There was something in the way Da’ean felt when Dorian was around; safe, warm in a way he couldn’t describe and had nothing to do with the fires Dorian was adamant about keeping, the way he always smelled of fresh ink even out in the field. It was so different than anything else Da’ean could ever remember from his clan, yet it meant more to him now than any comfort he could find among the Marches.

 

Da’ean huffed wetly into Dorian’s shoulder, the uneasiness unraveling in his chest. The huff turned into a small laugh, “Look at us, what fools we make.” He lifted his head from Dorian, “We’ve been back for how long, and yet we didn’t even speak about what happened to either of us.” Da’ean wiggled an arm free, raising a hand to tap Dorian’s nose, smiling as he went cross eyed to follow Da’ean’s finger. “Next time we face whatever nonsense the creators throw at us-”

 

Dorian’s scoff interrupted Da’ean, “Next time? I sincerely hope to never face anything like  _ that _ again.”

 

The smile on Da’ean’s face grew, “I’ll have to agree with you on that.” For a moment, Da’ean just drew in the warmth of Dorian’s embrace; laying his head on Dorian’s shoulder, finding the small stillness relaxing. But, he had been coming this way for a reason; Da’ean sighed, tilting his head up towards the ceiling, “Originally, I was supposed to meet Leliana, she said she had something from my clan,” He glanced over at Dorian, “Whatever that could entail.” 

 

Dorian shifted, releasing Da’ean from his arms. “The last they spoke to you was the letter you received after sending Leliana’s people to greet them yes?” 

 

Da’ean nodded, dropping his arms from Dorian. “Before Skyhold even, the Keeper wanted to know I was here of my own free will, they thought I was still being held prisoner, once they knew what was happening,” He shrugged, “They were fine, saying they would be a distraction if they came down.” His unspoken  _ but _ hung between them, and he wrapped his arms around himself. “I don’t know why they’re contacting me now.” 

 

Dorian motioned up the staircase leading to the rookery Leliana had claimed for herself, “Don’t stop on my account, go see what they want.” 

 

Da’ean looked Dorian over once, not quite satisfied totally, but not willing to push too much further here. “Alright, I’ll see you tonight then?” He didn’t mean for it to be a question, but his voice betrayed him.

 

A scrunch in Dorian’s brow, and Da’ean knew he’d said something off, “Of course, wherever else would I be?”

 

Da’ean could have kicked himself, but he settled on a sheepish smile, and a nod before heading up the stairs towards Leliana. 

 

\--

 

After taking the letters back to his quarters, Da’ean was almost dizzy with quiet dread building in his gut, the letter from Keeper Istimaethoriel setting slightly crumpled on his desk. He had taken the other, smaller letter which had accompanied it out onto the battlements, needing the fresh air and cool wind on his skin and started pacing as he reread it, the elvish doing little to settle his thoughts.

 

_ Da’ean, it is good to hear you’re not actually dead in some creators forsaken frozen waste. Linayel and I had begun placing bets on whether or not the shems had finally killed you yet or not. However should you have fallen to them I would have had to personally come to give you a lecture the likes of which you would have heard only from the Keeper. Mythal Enaste, I’m still debating on whether or not you deserve one for letting us think you had died in that wretched conclave. If we were not troubled with these bandits I would come down to this Skyhold to give you the rougher side of my tongue. But I’ll stop here, I’m sure you have had quite the adventure without your sister berating you. However, I must ask a favor of you, ir abelas but I do not think these bandits which plague us are real bandits. The Keeper has been on edge as well, and from what we’ve seen and heard from the hunters, they are too.. Cunning for simple bandits. Something else is a work here.  _

 

Da’ean could almost hear the anger in Idrilla’s voice, the underlying heat of her words when talking about the bandits. But he could also hear the smile in the first few lines, the way she was making light of the situation to make him feel more comfortable, to remind him of home even across the Waking Sea. 

 

_ Istimaethoriel won’t ask it of you, but should you be able to find out anything about these shemlen I would greatly appreciate it. And, maybe don’t mention I asked to the Keeper. _

_ Dareth Shiral Isa’ma’lin,  _

_ Idrilla _

 

Turning sharply on his heel, Da’ean continued pacing by the stone wall, the still slightly chilly mid-afternoon air seeping into him. What use was all of this new power as Inquisitor if he couldn’t even be of help to his clan? What was he doing here, pacing on an ancient wall, while his family was being hunted down by these shemlen bandits? 

 

Beneath him, Da’ean heard a  _ thwack _ , loud and hard, startling him out of thoughts. Curious, he walked over and stuck his head out to look down on the training ground below. Only to see Cassandra level Bull with a solid smack of a large staff. 

 

Da’ean almost doubled over from laughing, and Cassandra looked up, squinting at his small figure. 

 

“Why don’t you come down here, I’m sure he would appreciate  _ you _ being the one to hit him with this” She flourished the staff, before leaning it against the side of the tavern and walking away. 

 

For his part, Bull didn’t do much beside groan but he was on his feet by the time Da’ean managed to walk down the stairs near him. “A stick Bull? What is this?” 

 

Bull shrugged, “Qunari training exercise to master your fears. Been awhile since I needed it but that nightmare thing was.. Big”

 

Da’ean raised an eyebrow at him, “And hitting you with a stick helps?”

 

“Just hit me with the stick alright, I need to get over this demon crap” Bull rolled his shoulders, looking at Da’ean expectantly. 

 

He’s heard of weirder, Da’ean placed the letter from Idrilla inside his pocket, and picked up the staff to give Bull a solid hit with the staff.

 

Bull grunted, “There we go!”

 

Another hit, “Yea!”

 

Another, “Damn demon,”

 

Again, “Who’s stuck in the Fade?”

 

Da’ean took a step back, holding the staff close to them, “Fen’Harel’s teeth, does this really help?” 

 

“If it didn’t would I have you do it?” Da’ean was barely able to open his mouth to try and respond before Bull cut him off, “Less talking more hitting.”

 

A couple of hits later, and both of them were breathing heavy, “Thanks boss, I needed that” 

 

Da’ean leaned on the staff, tilting his head with a smile, “I knew you liked it rough, but not this rough” 

 

Bull laughed, “Only from you and Dorian kadan” 

 

Da’ean grinned, but with the fading adrenaline, could feel the words of Idrilla and the Keeper’s letters burning like hot stones in his lungs. He was still avoiding, still running away from his duties like a misbehaving child.

 

“Something on your mind?”  

 

Whenever Da’ean had become so easy for others to read he didn’t know. Dorian and Bull were able to see so clearly into his thoughts anymore, no matter how hard he tried to keep them from spilling out and flooding them. He turned his head, ashamed with himself and his wayward emotions. 

 

A large hand on his shoulder made him look up, accidentally looking Bull in the eye. “Is it about whatever was in that letter you had?” 

 

Fear bubbled up in Da’ean’s stomach, “Yes, but, not here?” His voice came out cracked, skittering over the words like rocks over clear water. 

 

Bull tilted his head, “Sure thing” he nodded towards the main hall, “It’s almost time for your end of the night dance lessons with Josie, we can talk after those.” 

 

Da’ean nodded, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “Actually..” He hesitated, the rushed through with his thought, “It’s about my clan, Idrilla and the Keeper both sent letters. They’re being stalked by bandits, but they’re not bandits. I don’t know why, but.. They couldn’t know it was  _ my clan _ could they?” His lungs seized in his chest, stuttering his breathing, “Bull, if they’re attacking my clan because they think-” 

 

For the second time that day Bull cut Da’ean’s thoughts short, this time however, he just pulled the smaller elf closer to him. “You and I both know if anyone attacks your clan for any reason, they will have to deal with the full weight of the Inquisition. No one is that stupid. Leliana can send her people in, hell, Dalish and Skinner can go with them.” 

 

Da’ean choked on his breath, “Why do I keep falling apart like this? I know,  _ I know _ we can send people to them, but..  _ Elgar’nan _ ” He stepped back, shaking his head with a self deprecating smile, distancing himself from Bull. “I’m sorry,  _ lath _ you should have to bear the brunt of my weakness.” Da’ean looked down, and tried taking in a deep breath to steady himself.

 

“You’re not weak kadan, Adamant was not even two weeks ago, after that Fade crap no one is coming back without new problems” 

 

Da’ean could still feel shame burning in his chest, “The ball at Halamshiral is less than a month away, I can’t waste everyone’s time with my own bullshit problems Bull.” 

 

Bull placed a hand on Da’ean’s head, tilting it up to look him in the eyes. “Your problems are our problems, you’re the one they’ve got leading this joint, if you fall apart because you don’t take care of yourself this whole thing goes under.” He ran his hand down along Da’ean’s hair, “If you don’t want to take care of yourself, we’ll do it for you.” 

 

Smiling weakly, Da’ean nodded, “Alright  _ ma isenatha _ , but I expect to be pampered.”

 

Bull laughed, dropping his hand from Da’ean’s hair to land on his rump. “You and Dorian both. But I think I can manage” He waggled his good eyebrow at Da’ean, receiving a real laugh in return. 

 

Da’ean pulled away from him, “I’ll be late to meet with Josephine!”

 

“Good,” Bull picked him, and tossed him over his shoulder, “I’ll apologize to her later.”

 

 

 

He didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for staying up with this, I hope y'all continue to enjoy it!


	10. Spring at the Winter Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love that PTSD right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're maybe one or two chapters from the halfway point folks!

Josie’s laughter bubbled out from her again, as Da’ean successfully dipped her as they danced in her office. “You’re doing much better at that Inquisitor.” She said breathlessly as they started a spin, Da’ean twirling her around the room with a flourish.

 

As if summoned, the door creaked open behind them, and Dorian’s voice came from the entrance. “That’s because I’ve been teaching him.”

 

“Vhenan, you don’t have to call me out so.” Da’ean grinned, ending the dance with Josephine and bowing.

 

“Someone has to take credit for your improved waltz, and with all of those times you stepped on my toes I think I am due some.” Dorian laughed at Da’ean’s feigned affronted expression, “Josephine would be suspicious if you suddenly became a competent dancer.”

 

Da’ean scoffed, “A competent _Orlesian_ dancer you mean, I am a _phenomenal_ Dalish dancer I’ll have you know.”

 

Josie laughed, “As you have said, every time you learn a new way to step on my own toes.”

 

Da’ean turned to face Josephine, an overly dramatic gasp (that he certainly did not learn from Dorian) escaping him, “Josie, not you too!”

 

The ambassador only smiled, “A united front Inquisitor, it would be wise to admit defeat.”

 

A sigh of fake defeat and Da’ean’s grin only grew, “I suppose I must be good enough for the ball now, seeing as we leave tomorrow morning.”

 

Josie nodded, “The court will be delighted,” she gave a small curtsy, “It is getting late, and tomorrow we head for Halamshiral.” She smiled, motioning them out the door, “Have a pleasant evening.”

 

The hall outside Josie’s office was empty of the nobles who usually gathered there, due mainly to the lateness of the hour. Dorian’s hand clasped around Da’ean’s wrist as they left, a familiar and welcome weight. The last night in Skyhold before leaving for Halamshiral and Da’ean felt the bright cheer from the dance lesson with Josie fade into the exhaustion he seemed unable to escape lately. Leaning a hand against the door leading to their room after climbing the stairs, he closed his eyes and gently opened the door.

 

“Are you quite alright?” Dorian let go of Da’ean’s wrist, moving across the room, working on shedding the ridiculous amount of leather he always seemed to be wearing. Da’ean could swear Dorian’s clothing took up more room in Da’ean’s closet than his own did.

 

Da’ean nodded slowly, taking in the moonlight coming in through the open balcony windows, it’s muted silvery glow falling on the burnished bronze of Dorian’s exposed shoulders. The whole room was softened by nightfall; the small noises of Dorian rummaging around for loose sleep shirts, Bull’s snores echoing weakly off the stone of the room as he had already fallen asleep by the time they’d been able to come back, the rustling of the mountain winds blowing against the trees, the smell of drying ink from the papers resting on his desk.

 

It was home, now. It was a home which against all odds Da’ean no longer felt like leaving, a betrayal he felt as a dull pain in his heart.

 

Dorian walked back over to where he was standing, an oversized shirt in hand. “You’re brooding.”

 

Da’ean shucked off the stiff overclothes Josephine insisted upon during lessons in favor of the soft linen shirt, throwing them into the half-full basket of laundry. “Am not.”

 

“Of course not, you’re just enjoying the scenery, which never changes by the way, in the dead of night.” Dorian tilted his head, obviously expecting Da’ean to expand.

 

He didn’t. Instead, Da’ean held out his hands to deflect, raising his eyebrows at Dorian. “Dance with me?”

 

He sighed, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips, taking Da’ean’s outstretched hands. “One.”

 

Starting to hum a tune he’d been taught by his father, Da’ean moved Dorian’s hands. “I’m going to be the teacher tonight.”  Grinning, Da’ean began to lead Dorian through the quick steps of the first dance he had ever learned; all strong footwork and flowing arms, a dance meant for children during festivals. Dorian was abysmal at it, at first. He caught himself in Da’ean’s feet, and more than once almost tripped on his loose pants. Tears of laughter, the first Da’ean had felt in quite some time really but here and now wasn’t the time to dwell on such thoughts, were beginning to wet Da’ean’s eyes as he guided Dorian through the dance.

 

“Alright, alright, I yield, you’re an exceptionally capable dancer.” Dorian panting, slightly out of breath from the few time they’d been around the room, Da’ean having kept them moving for the better part of the last half hour.

 

“I cannot believe you thought I was lying, I’m hurt _vhenan_.” Da’ean pouted, sticking out his bottom lip as far as it would go, laughter still lighting up his eyes.

 

Grinning mischievously, Dorian stepped closer to Da’ean, taking his head in his hands and peppering kisses along his forehead and cheeks. Da’ean giggled, his pout disappearing under Dorian’s ministrations. “ _Emma lath_ ” he whined, bringing his hands up to circle Dorian’s wrists.

 

“ _Amatus_ ” Dorian mimicked, still sprinkling kisses on Da’ean’s face. After a few seconds, he relents, dropping his hands from Da’ean’s head to his waist. “It is getting rather late though, isn’t it. We do have to be on the move early in the morning.”

 

Da’ean sighed, relaxing into Dorian, “We do, unfortunate really.”

 

“What, did you have plans for staying up most of the night?” Dorian laughed quietly near Da’ean’s ear, ruffling the loose hair which had fallen from his braids since he had put it up that morning, a process both Bull and Dorian enjoyed watching for some reason unfathomable to Da’ean.

 

Feeling a blush coloring his dark skin, Da’ean snorted. “No, I just do not relish our destination.”

 

“Oh?” Dorian pulled at Da’ean’s waist, drawing him closer by a hair. “What, you don’t like Orlesians, the Empress, the Winter Palace?”

 

“None of them if I’m being honest, but,” He brushes a kiss against Dorian’s jaw, and steps out of his embrace; walking over to the still open balcony, the moonlight reflecting off his eyes and bare legs. “Its Halamshiral, _Halamshiral_ Dorian.”

 

Stopping before he actually steps out onto the balcony, Da’ean leans against the frame for the stained glass door. He looked out to the stars, the moon, the empty spaces of dark sky between them. However much he felt he wanted to stay and live here, he belonged to the roaming lifestyle of his people, and the toll of going to the place where that lifestyle was forced upon them was higher than he had thought it was going to be.  

 

“Did you know I grew up on stories of Halamshiral, the times before the Exalted March against us. Tales of the Emerald Knights, the magic, the cities, the people who populated them... A place called  home by the People.” The sound of his voice was small, but it carried well through the still night air. “I used to dream of going to Halamshiral, of taking it back, I think a few of us did when we were kids.”

 

Da’ean turned his head to face Dorian, “Now I’m actually going, to help the shem empress keep her throne.” He shrugs, unable to convey everything he was feeling. “Ironic right.”

 

“Da’ean,” Dorian began, but Da’ean cut him off, walking back into the room proper.

 

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” He came back to Dorian, taking one of his hands and pressing a small kiss to the back of it. “I really just want to sleep and get this over with.”

 

Dorian frowned, but not deeply, his forehead crinkling slightly. “I… Alright _amatus_.”

 

Da’ean leads Dorian by the hand, not looking at him for a moment out of fear that Dorian will want to press him, ask him questions Da’ean has neither the will or fortitude to answer, and both of them end up curled around Bull’s softly snoring form. The pair of them fall asleep quickly, warm bodies on cool sheets and the night passes away like a calm wind before a storm.

 

__

 

Days on the road had not alleviated Da’ean’s nervous feelings as traveling usually did. A dull ache had even settled deep in his shoulders as they had been constantly tight the past few days. Dorian had offered to rub the tension out of them with a massage, Bull, of course, offered to rub decidedly different things, but Da’ean had turned them both down, too anxious for soothing or excitable hands. By the time it was time for them to attend Halamshiral, Da’ean was a wreck of nerves.

 

The only thing which was moderately soothing was the fact he’d been able to have his clan send his festival clothes, and Vivienne had worked a miracle for him in getting a tailor who made the formal clothing for Halamshiral to be made from the patterns Da’ean gave him. Now, the familiar style of clothes helped ground him in his present. And if the idea of wearing his traditional Dalish ceremonial garb to Halamshiral gave him no small sense of satisfaction as well, then the Orlesians could choke on his pride if they wanted.

 

He stood in front of one of the mirrors Leliana, of all people, had brought for them to get ready with, delicately putting in an earring from which a long, thin golden chain hung. It was connected to another small gold ring, just a tad larger than the first joint of his thumb. Da’ean hummed as he threaded the ring through his left nostril, the final piece of jewelry he had left to put on. Another slice of home from his clan; the jewelry for festivals and special occasions which he had left behind when he had traveled to the conclave, as none of them were expecting him to be gone for more than a few months at most.

 

Taking a step back, Da’ean allowed himself a moment just for himself. He’d never been able to see what he looked like beyond a small handheld mirror which the clan shared or his reflection in the water. Now, he turned himself around in front of the mirror, looking for anything out of place in his outfit. His reflection mirrored him; teal vallaslin standing in stark relief to the dark brown skin on his face matching his eyes, the long cream sleeves of his shirt visible under the dark forest green of softest linen wrapped around his neck and draped down and around his torso. Golden woods were embroidered into the wrap, a few halla poking through the silk trees. His white pants were loose, allowing him plenty of movement, although they were tighter around his ankles, wrapping and wrinkling in folds. His jewelry glimmered in the soft light, his many earrings and thin gold chain connecting the lowest piercing on his left ear to the hoop in his nose. A relaxed gold sash fell around his waist under the wrap to complete his look.

 

Da’ean smirked at himself and stuck his tongue out at his reflection.

 

“Having fun boss?”

 

Da’ean startled, almost biting his tongue, having been caught up in looking for any imperfections in the mirror. “Fenedhis Bull, don’t scare me like that.” He doesn’t move to face Bull, still looking into the mirror, but he meets Bull’s eye in the reflection. Just in time to watch Bull slowly take him in. Da’ean blushed darkly but brought himself up to his full height. “Enjoying yourself?”

 

Bull blinked slowly, which Da’ean knew was supposed to be a wink and he rolled his eyes in response. “Want to talk about what’s been bothering you?” Bull entered the room all the way, and Da’ean was able to see Josie had made good on her threat to force Bull into a full shirt.

 

Da’ean stiffened, then relaxed and sighed heavily, there would be no end to this would there? “You know, if you and Dorian want to keep tag teaming you should probably wait a bit longer between rounds of questions.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Da’ean turned to face Bull properly instead of through his reflection. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

An expression of hurt flashes across Bull’s features, if Da’ean had not spent so much time with him the past months, he was sure he would have missed it. “You did. You’ve also been avoiding everyone, not just us.”

 

Hot shame burned its way down Da’ean’s throat, but he was so tired. “And what of it? I wanted some time to myself, so I took it. You’re not my Keeper Bull.”

 

A furrow appeared above Bull’s brow, “No, I’m not. I’m also not going to let you self-combust Da’ean, which means I’m going to ask how you’re doing.”

 

Da’ean starts, both ashamed and angry and, “I… I know. _I know_ , alright. I just..” _I’m scared, I’m terrified that I won’t be enough._ Da’ean turns his head away, looking at the floor as that was easier than meeting Bull’s eye. “I’m tired alright, just tired. I’ll be fine after Halamshiral.” He hugs his arms tighter around himself, sighing heavily. “I’ll be fine.” Da’ean repeats, softer this time, disbelief clear in his voice.

 

Da’ean can hear Bull’s own sigh, “After Halamshiral.” he concedes.

 

A heartbeat passes between them as a breeze comes in through the open flap, the newly spring air still carrying with it the chills of winter, even in the torch lit space. “Inquisitor?” Came a timid voice from outside, “They’re waiting for you outside serrah.”

 

Glancing up, Da’ean meets Bull’s eye as he answers, “Sure, we’re coming along now.”

 

Bull shrugs, but follows after Da’ean as he exits the tent. Da’ean could feel the tension radiating from Bull, and he knew he was the cause as well, but.. He didn’t have the energy to care about it right now. Right now Da’ean had to focus on the politics and scandals and secrets inside the Winter Palace. He didn’t have time to be weak, or confused, or needy, or any of the plethora of things he had been feeling since turning his back on Stroud and sent the man to his death. Shaking his head to clear the cobweb of thoughts, Da’ean straightened and blinked his eyes against the pale spring sunlight. He was as ready as he would be to face the Orlesian mess which stood on the ruins of the once proud Elvhen city.

 

__

 

The ball was a disaster. Because of course, it was, Orlesians couldn’t do anything without making it into a scene, controlled in its drama, however, Da’ean was able to make use of the information and tips he collected over the evening.

 

Of course, the evening had started out innocently enough, within the first five minutes he had been called ‘rabbit’ and had very nearly called the noblewoman shem before biting his tongue hard enough to bleed and asking how he could help her through the metallic tang. From the looks he had seen on Cassandra and Sera’s faces, he wasn’t the only one holding back. Dorian had scoffed at the woman as well, but Da’ean had gone and done as she had bid, earning him -hopefully- some good reputation with the Orlesians.

 

Once they had actually entered the Winter Palace, Da’ean was able to pull his focus onto what he was doing; namely looking for information and when that lead him into a series of fights, he wasn’t complaining. He maybe fought harder than was absolutely necessary, taking out his recent frustrations on many minions of the Harlequin. Although he did restrain himself from damaging the palace itself too much. Barely. Eavesdropping on the nobles of Orlais was satisfying only before he actually heard what poor secrets they were keeping. They cared only for what the other nobles were thinking of them, for the decorations on their shoes and masks, always the blighted masks. Da’ean dutifully relayed everything he heard to Leliana of course, but none of it seemed to have a point. All that he had learned were frivolities, and while his spymaster told him these would be beyond useful, Da’ean had some trouble believing her.

 

Everything he did anymore seemed to be useless. Corypheus was outside of his reach, and even though he was here, standing in the Winter Palace built on the picked-over bones of Halamshiral, he was doing nothing. Da’ean was trapped, if he made even the motion of a wrong move the Orlesians would eat him for breakfast, if he waited for too long Corypheus’ plan would move into fruition and the whole reason for coming here would be gone. He had one chance, one blighted way for this evening to go in which it would not consume the budding inquisition in flames, and Mythal en’aste he couldn’t see which way was the way to go.

 

So he fought, he fought hard with all of the pent-up frustrations he kept bottled up too afraid to show.

 

To add to all of this, apparently, however well he might have thought he hid behind his own mask, a blank face presented in every encounter, never revealing weakness, he wasn't able to close himself off completely. It was selfish, it was stupid, and it would hurt him in the long run, but he was weak. He couldn't quite push away Dorian and Bull.

 

Da’ean worried at his lip, a habit he’d picked up in childhood that he’d never been able to shake, and then caught himself and shook his head. This was getting him nowhere, this circular thinking was revolving only around himself and Da’ean knew better. He knew better and yet, he still fell into the same traps within his own blighted mind.

 

They were close now, or well, closer really. With the appearance of the empress’s arcane advisor and his own escapade through marked off areas Da’ean had helped his advisors begin to piece together who was the mole here in the palace, although none of them were yet for sure. The Harlequin had been the one time this evening when Da’ean had felt he had done something useful, but now it was time for him to dance and the Grand Duchess herself, the exalted Lady Florianne.

 

Dancing wasn’t as hard as Da’ean had feared it might be, instead, he was more worried about what the Duchess was saying because the more she opened her mouth the more confused Da’ean became. It didn’t last long though, the dance or Da’ean’s confusion, because as soon as he was finished dropping Florianne into a dip and the polite applause from the Orlesians gathered faded into background noise, Leliana cornered him.

 

Time began to blur for Da’ean as he once again had to sneak around the palace, but now he had a clear goal and he maybe even knew what he was doing. Rooting through the private apartments of the most powerful people in the Orlesian empire, no problem for the Dalish elf. Da’ean didn’t waste time though, and he was quick to move on.

 

Da’ean definitely did not know what he was doing. He hadn’t considered Florianne to be the one behind all of this nonsense, but the longer he thought about it while dodging fire from demons and arrows from mercenaries, the more it made sense. Doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t see it coming and that now he had to deal with an open rift right in the courtyard of the Winter Palace, and that now he was definitely going to get into trouble with Idrilla for not figuring things out as quick as he should have. Maybe he would leave this part out of his next letter.

 

A few short bloody minutes after Florianne had sprung her trap and almost caught them off guard, Da’ean walked back into the ballroom proper, seeking out his advisors from their respective corners in the room. It didn’t take them long to determine their next course of action, and as Florianne was walking up to her cousin on the balcony overlooking the ballroom Da’ean strode up behind her and gave the entire court the summary of what happened, with maybe a touch of the wildness they associated with the Dalish to make his point as clear as the points of his ears. She had been outplayed, by an elf, at her own game and it was now time for her to deal with the consequences.

 

A thunderous roar of an approving court behind him, Da’ean was able to force the Duchess to surrender, and she was led away by Inquisition soldiers, but their purpose for the evening wasn’t over yet, and so Da’ean followed after the Empress, her Duke, and her former elvhen lover out to the balcony to discuss the future of Orlais. Which was, dreadfully boring to Da’ean, who really just wanted this over with, and as soon as he presented them together Celene and Briala were able to resolve whatever it was that had happened between them after having shown Briala the locket, and thankfully Gaspard was silenced and shunted sideways.

 

With a jaw-cracking yawn Da’ean left the balcony while the others were still discussing, Leliana would probably get onto him for that later but at the moment Da’ean couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he snuck out onto a different balcony and leaned out over the edge. A spring storm was brewing just over the valley below, he could feel it in the air, the scent of ozone so familiar to him after years of living with Idrilla, who carried the scent of it, dangerous and natural just like her, everywhere she went. It was the type of storm Da’ean loved to be out in, no matter how sick he would get afterward, the cleansing feeling of the water hitting him and streaming through his clothes to soak into his skin was something he would never tire of, would seek out always. A deep breath of the charged air and Da’ean was able to let some of the tension he held go, there was nothing else left to do for the evening, the plans laid by their enemy had been thwarted and now it was time for the quiet of evening.

 

As the night air was so still, Da’ean could almost feel it stirring around as Bull walked up behind him. “Quite the night you’ve had.”

 

Da’ean choked out a laugh, caught off guard, and he cocked his head from where he was leaning on the railing to look at Bull. “Shit you should have told me, I would have worn better lingerie.”  

 

Now it was Bull’s turn to laugh, a deep rumbling sound Da’ean could feel and he had started to love every chance he had to hear it. “My kind of night.” Bull stepped closer until he was just behind Da’ean, and he tucked a stray strand of thick curly hair back behind Da’ean’s ear. “Could be a different kind of night tonight.”

 

A small sigh filtered past Da’ean’s lips as he stood up, leaning backward into Bull. Da’ean didn’t say anything for a moment, just hummed approval against Bull’s chest, until he was able to find a way to voice what had been on his mind for the past week. “I need some time, but, I think, I.. I want to hold onto this, I want to keep this... Us.” Da’ean dropped his head, the now familiar hot shame burning like a stone left in the hearth fire in his stomach, “ _Fenedhis_ I know I’ve been so _difficult_ these past weeks, and you’re both trying so hard and I’m just _not_ and-”

 

Bull cut him off with a squeeze, the sneaky bastard having wrapped his arms around Da’ean’s middle as he had started to work himself up, “It’s going to be okay Da’ean, it’ll work out. You’ve had to fight through shit most people would give up on just looking at.”

 

Da’ean shook his head, but didn’t speak up, he was suddenly exhausted once again, and he wiggled out of Bull’s arms. “I’m, I’m tired, I think I’m going to retire for the night.” Bull frowned slightly, but didn’t push, just nodded and let Da’ean rush from anything else he could have said to try and make him feel better.

 

Because he knew that’s what they were going to try to do, were already trying to do. Didn’t they get it, didn’t they _understand_. He didn’t deserve their kindness, their lo- _affection_ , any of it. He was a murderer and a coward and why couldn’t they see that. Why couldn’t they just, understand that he just _wasn’t worth it_.

__

 

Ashamed of himself and his actions, Da’ean hunted out a quiet corner to wait out the rest of the ball, until a nervous looking elven serving girl came up to him to direct him to the private quarters he was given for the evening, nothing spared for the Inquisitor who had just single-handedly saved the life of the Empress after all. He took one look at the grotesquely over decorated interior and could feel bile rising in his throat.

 

It was over, it was over and there was nothing left for him to feel.

 

A clap of thunder echoed outside the palace echoed inside Da’ean and he could feel it deep in his very bones, a deep rattling of every hollow space within him. Da’ean was nothing but hollow spaces now, guilt and pain and duty and grief eating at him until all that was left was the shell he called himself.

 

Da’ean found himself standing near the largest window in the room; it couldn’t open, of course, Orlesians were particular like that, but he could put his hand against the glass and feel the cold seep through his palm. He stood there for a long moment, nothing on his mind other than the feeling of the smooth cool glass and the sound of rain just outside it, searching for peace. It wasn’t to be found, not by him, never by him. Someone who had done the things he had done didn’t deserve peace, didn’t deserve power, didn’t deserve the blossoming relationship or whatever was happening between himself and Dorian and Bull.

 

Consumed with himself and his thoughts, Da’ean didn’t notice his door open, didn’t notice the figure sneak in, and didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until a pair of arms snaked around his shoulders and along his arms, spooking him like a stray cat.

 

“Miss me _amatus_? You’ve taken quite a turn at playing the brooding elf, are you sure you haven’t been spending too much time with Solas. Imagine what that would do to you.” Dorian’s warm voice sounded in his ear and Da’ean’s heart relaxed from the rapid pace it had skyrocketed to just moments before.

 

“ _Fenedhis_ don’t sneak up on me like that Dorian.” Da’ean’s voice shook for reasons beyond him but he ducked out of Dorian’s embrace and turned to look at him. Just in time to catch the surprised and hurt look flash across Dorian’s face before he put up a sad and worried smile. Da’ean cursed at himself, nothing he did anymore was helpful all he could do was hurt those he wanted to cherish above all others. He puts a hand to his face and scrubs at it in agitation, “Look, I.. I’m sorry I can’t... You don’t deserve this Dorian, all I keep doing to you. To Bull…” Da’ean trails off, closing his eyes against a sudden onslaught of tears and a choked throat. “I’m sorry.” He finishes weakly, flinching back when Dorian reaches for him, “I’m _sorry_.”

 

“Da’ean.” Dorian’s voice is forceful, more demanding than Da’ean ever remembers hearing, “Look at me Da’ean.”

 

So he does. Da’ean is weak, worthless, but he opens his eyes at Dorian’s words because Da’ean follows the bright light of the promise Dorian holds like a moth towards veilfire.

 

In the dim light provided by the lightning streaking across outside the window next to them, Da’ean can see Dorian’s face, pinched slightly with worry and a deep lingering sadness and Da’ean knows he put both of those there. “We’ve been worried for you, Bull and I in particular but all of us in the inner circle, ever since Adamant. Out of everyone there, you were put through the most, and you came out the most changed.” Dorian took a step forward, encroaching on Da’ean’s space again but this time Da’ean stayed put, trusting in Dorian and his words and choosing to stay and not to flee. “Earlier you agreed to talk with us after the ball. Now it’s after, and Bull has charge of the imperial baths and the three of us are going to relax.” A hand on Da’ean’s and he couldn’t say a hot bath was something he was opposed to. “We don’t have to talk tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day. But you,” Dorian punctuates his words with a poke at Da’ean’s chest, “you are going to rest. You’re wound tight and you’ll snap if you don’t release some of that tension amatus.”

 

Da’ean can’t do anything more than just nod. He’s so tired, has been exhausted since he stepped out of the Fade so many weeks ago. And now here’s Dorian, coming in and telling him he doesn’t have to be in charge, even if just for tonight, and that, that’s something Da’ean craves. Dorian doesn’t press him, just takes Da’ean’s arm and loops it through his own, leading him out of the room and down a series of hallways until he comes to a set of double doors and swings them open with a flourish.

 

Inside, Da’ean can see the large marble baths, huge sprawling things, heated by fires underneath the room. A scent Da’ean can’t place fills his nose, it’s warm and familiar and brings memories of safety and home but, Da’ean doesn’t know what it is. He shakes his head to clear it and continues looking around the room; the neatly folded piles of soft towels in a corner off to the side, Bull’s clothes also folded neatly next to them, Dorian standing next to him, Bull already in the massive bath, his back turned to them as he looks at something Da’ean can’t make out.

 

Dorian pulls him over by the towels, a question in his eyes as he motions towards Da’ean, who blinks in confusion before he realizes what he’s being asked. With a nod from Da’ean, Dorian sets to work unraveling the linen and silks wrapped around Da’ean’s smaller wiry form, his hands, so much softer than any Da’ean had known before, running lightly over the surface of Da’ean’s skin left gooseflesh on the elf’s skin in their wake. “ _Lath_ ,” Da’ean whispered, more a sigh, eyes drooping shut as he turned himself over to Dorian.

 

All Da’ean heard in response was a warm hum before silence overtook the room, neither Bull nor Dorian breaking the stillness of the air. All too quickly Dorian’s warm hands retreated from Da’ean’s now nude form, and he opened his eyes to frown at Dorian in disapproval and got a small laugh in response. “I’ve got myself to take care of, go join Bull I won’t take long.”

 

Huffing, Da’ean does, moving to enter the water behind Bull, who had turned to face them sometime when Da’ean hadn’t been looking. As soon as he steps foot in the water he knows something is up, the water sticks to his legs like fine oil and now that he’s closer to it he realizes the sweet familiar smell was coming from the bath itself, wrinkling his brow Da’ean gives Bull a curious confused glance. “Courtesy of our lady ambassador, don’t worry, she made sure she got her money's worth out of us for it.”

 

Da’ean frowned, “But why woul-” is all he gets out before Bull shushes him, “Nah, tonight is about you.”

 

Bull pulled Da’ean closer to him, coaxing him through the hot water until there wasn’t more than a scant inch between them. Da’ean flushed, turning his head to look back at Dorian who was finally entering the water himself, “Late to the party aren’t you.”

 

With a laugh, Dorian stepped into the bath daintily, “Fashionably late maybe but never absent for this kind of party.”

 

“Could have fooled me.” Bull removed one of his hands from around Da’ean’s wrists, reaching back behind him to grab at something, then bringing a cloth covered in frothy soap up between them. “You alright Da’ean?”

 

He nods, “I’m fine,” a sigh, forcing itself through a throat now thick with an emotion Da’ean can’t place. “I..” Da’ean shakes his head, and then pulls himself away, “No. No, I don’t understand. _Why_ are you doing this? For _me?_ ” He takes a few steps back, feet slipping on the smooth marble under his feet as he pushes back away from the two people who are closest to him. “I don’t... Don’t do this, please, I’m not worth it.”

 

Hot tears burn their way up Da’ean’s throat and down his cheeks, where they came from he doesn’t know, he was doing _so well_ before this, before now, before Bull and Dorian had tried helping him. What was wrong with him! Da’ean knew they hadn’t done anything wrong and yet... And yet he couldn’t accept what they were doing, it had to be a trick, they couldn’t mean it.

 

Could they?

 

Dorian opened his mouth just as Bull scrunched his eyebrows, but Da’ean continued, his words barrelling off his tongue like a new halla through its first snow. “Don’t you see, I don’t deserve it, any of it.” He was trembling now, he could feel the water shiver around him but he couldn’t stop himself. “I’m a murder. A _coward_.”

 

“No. You’re not.” Bull’s deep voice echoed off the silky waters of the bath, “You’ve been through shit and you haven’t been able to deal with it.”

 

Da’ean could have screamed, “I left him, _I left him_. _Fenedhis_ Bull, I could have done something, _anything_ and I left him alone to _die_.”

 

Dorian edged closer but Da’ean didn’t see, couldn’t notice anything anymore that wasn’t the grey of Bull’s eyes. “You did the right thing _amatus_. If you had stayed there wouldn’t have been anyone to lead the Inquisition, no one to close the rifts.” He steps closer, “We wouldn’t have survived without you. You’re the one who got us through the Fade.”

 

Da’ean shook his head, “I could hav-”

 

“You did what you needed to do, and now we’re doing what you need us to do.”

 

It wasn’t the first time Bull had said something like that to Da’ean, but now, here in this moment, in a bath inside the Winter Palace, the words reverberated through Da’ean. A thick sob choked him, and he bent forward taking a step closer to Bull and Dorian with his marked hand outstretched. Not a heartbeat passed before Da’ean was enveloped by not one but two pairs of arms, soothing nonsense words falling from his lover's lips as he shook between them.

 

“Ma’serannas” Da’ean repeated the words like a mantra, “Ma’serannas, Ma’serannas, _Ma’serannas_ ”

 

It would take more than one night, more than two or four or twenty nights. But he was moving forwards, Da’ean could see it, could feel it deep within his very bones as he was held and cared for and looked after by the two people he never thought he would have more than a passing attraction.

 

He was healing.

 

And he wasn’t alone.

 

Not anymore.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just, thank y'all so much for continuing to read this. It means so much to me, I don't know how you guys have put up with my crazy slow updates but I love y'all for it.


	11. Stormy Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just remember I love you!  
> <3  
> Watch the tag change, if starting out with a threesome bothers you skip down to the first page break.

A pair of warm fingers slid their way up Da’ean’s sweat slick thigh, causing the skin under them to shiver fiercely at the contact. Da’ean tipped his head back slightly with a soft groan, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat to the blatantly hot air, only to hear Bull laugh behind him. His skin was burning, liquid fire running through his veins from the overabundant stimulus, the overwhelming attention which had been given him. 

 

Warm air ghosted over Da’ean’s chest, giving him a barest warning before Dorian began laying a trail of open kisses up from where his fingers were digging into Da’ean’s sharp hip bones up his shuddering stomach before stopping a moment to pay attention to Da’ean’s nipple. Wet heat and Da’ean gasped, arching himself backward and pushing himself further onto Bull’s fingers transforming his gasp into a strangled moan. 

 

Dorian moved on after only a moment, making his way up Da’ean’s chest, past his collar, though not before leaving a necklace of small bites Da’ean was hoping would bruise, coming to the long column of his throat. Da’ean whimpered, there was so much to focus on, he was going up in flames: Dorian’s hand at his hip and lips near his jaw, Bull behind him and inside him, two fingers scissoring leisurely while Da’ean’s blood burned. 

 

“Doing alright Da’ean?” Bull’s voice came from just over his shoulder, as collected as Da’ean couldn’t be, even as he pulled out his fingers just to push them back in languidly, a tremendously slow movement Da’ean knew was meant only to draw out the delicious torment he had asked for. 

 

Letting out a heavy, shaky sigh, Da’ean lets his head fall back further, just barely managing to stretch far enough to turn his head and place it in the crook of Bull’s neck. “Never better.” The thick heady scent of them mingled together was intoxicating to Da’ean, and he rolled his hips, “Mm, but I can think of some things that are missing.” 

 

Dorian chuckled, “I should hope not.” He brought up the hand from Da’ean’s hip to his cock and gave a single languid stroke, the fingers of his other hand coming to clasp tightly at the base and Da’ean gave a full body shudder. 

 

“That  _ ah _ .” Da’ean stuttered out a breath as Dorian stroked in tandem with the movement of Bull’s fingers, “That works too.” 

 

A swift grin crossed Dorian’s face, a grin Da’ean felt with physical force while he watched through his lashes as Dorian shifted his hand from Da’ean’s cock back down his thighs. Only to bend himself down and take Da’ean in his mouth.

 

Scorching velvet heat enveloped him as he arched with a shout, suddenly glad, though not for the first time, for the thick stone walls and empty staircase between their quarters and the rest of Skyhold as his hips jerked against the sudden weight of Dorian’s hand. Behind him his arms twitched violently against the thin golden silk cord wrapped intricately from his elbows to his wrists, keeping him restrained even when all he wanted in that moment was to thread his hands through Dorian’s hair.

 

Da’ean could feel Dorian’s own moan reverberate around his cock, the vibration rocking him to his core. “ _ Vhenan _ .” The word shuddered as he did, unable to do anything more than feel. Da’ean pressed his face back into the crook of Bull’s neck, overcome with the sensation of Dorian’s tongue swirling around his length as though it was the sweet cream Orlesian’s were so fond of putting on desserts. 

 

He was so hard he  _ ached _ with it, the stretch from Bull’s fingers beginning to fade until he withdrew completely, leaving Da’ean feeling empty at the loss. A small whine slipping past his lips, as he rocked slightly into Dorian’s mouth.

 

“Sounds like you’re doing alright there Da’ean.” Da’ean felt rather than heard Bull’s chuckle pressed against his neck as he was, and gave a garbled sigh in response.    
  


Dorian released him with wet pop, a thin strand of spit laced precome trailing from his mouth until he ran a thumb across his lips in an action Da’ean couldn’t draw his eyes away from. Dorian noticed and smirked at Da’ean, whose blush deepened, blood rushing to the skin high in his cheeks and in the tips of his ears. 

 

Behind him, Da’ean heard the pop of a cork, the sound no less obscene than the one Dorian had made, and Da’ean trembled. His eyes met Dorian’s as Bull slid three cold and slick fingers inside him, one roughly dragging one across the bundle of nerves to send sparks up his spine. Da’ean arched with a shout while Dorian laughed at him, raking his nails in burning trails down Da’ean’s aching thighs, bright points against his trembling skin. 

 

“ _ Elgar’nan _ ” Da’ean hisses, relaxing himself back against Bull, “Keep that up and I won’t last long.”

 

“That’s the point.” Bull replies as he continues that agonizingly slow drag, applying only enough pressure to stretch Da’ean lazily. 

 

Time slowed to a crawl; each slow movement of Bull’s fingers curling and stretching him, every trailing line left raised by Dorian’s nails, Da’ean gave up trying to keep track. It was easier to simply let go and trust in the his lovers. The flames from earlier subsided into a simmering burn right under his skin so that every touch felt magnified; Dorian’s breath ghosting over his skin before he placed a burning kiss to it, the rhythmic movement of Bull’s chest against Da’ean’s back as he breathed. Every sound louder, Da’ean could hear sheets rustle underneath them as they rocked together, it was as if all of his senses were simultaneously sharpened and dulled to the point of senselessness; nothing past himself and Bull and Dorian mattered in that moment. 

 

Da’ean was reduced to a quivering mess, sounds falling listlessly from him as he begged to no avail. Until,  _ finally _ , Bull slid his fingers out one final time. “You’ve been so good Da’ean.” Bull’s already deep baritone roughened by desire sounded over the shell of his ear, causing Da’ean to shudder. He heard the cork pop again behind him, heard Bull hiss slightly at the cold oil, and Dorian’s hands moved along his skin, one at his hip and one cupping Da’ean’s face as Dorian kissed him with fervor. 

 

A noise almost like a sob left Da’ean only to be captured instantly by Dorian’s lips as Bull slowly, torturously pressed inside. Dorian broke away after what felt like only the briefest of moments, moving down to the line of Da’ean’s jaw, dragging his teeth over Da’ean’s skin. Da’ean bit furiously at his own lip to catch the groan in his chest as Bull seated himself fully and Da’ean thought he might combust. 

 

“None of that now  _ amatus _ ” Dorian’s voice is breathy and high as he presses his thumb against Da’ean’s bottom lip and pulls his mouth slightly open, “I want to hear each and every noise you make.”

 

Da’ean flexed his arms, the silken cord digging slightly into the taunt skin. “Untie me  _ vhenan _ if you want to hear me I want to feel you under my fingers.” 

 

Dorian dragged the tips of his fingers down Da’ean’s bound arms, “Was that a request Bull I couldn’t quite hear it.” A wicked smile appeared on Dorian’s lips, “I think I need to hear that again Da’ean, nicely this time.” 

 

Twisting slightly, Da’ean started to roll his hips, but was stopped by Bull’s hands on his hips, eliciting a whine from Da’ean. “Better answer Dorian quickly Da’ean. He’s not known for his patience.” 

 

“ _ Vhenan please- _ ” Da’ean shifts his arms under Dorian’s hands as Dorian gives him that same wicked smile, but is already undoing the knots on Da’ean’s elbows. As soon as the cord loosens Da’ean frees his arms to immediately drag his hands up Dorian’s arms to run his fingers along Dorian’s jawline. 

 

Bull chose that moment to move, sliding out of Da’ean almost entirely before setting an agonizingly slow pace. Da’ean shifted forward with a muffled shout, overwhelmed by the simple  _ fullness _ of Bull taking his time, sliding a hand down from Dorian’s neck to his cock in a single long glide. 

 

Dorian gasped in Da’ean’s ear and Da’ean scraped his teeth against Dorian’s neck where he had landed in lieu of a grin. Bull kept the same slow pace, a measured deliverance in every thrust. Da’ean groaned against Dorian’s neck, shifting his hips and leaving a wet trail of open mouthed kisses down the line of Dorian’s throat as he stroked him in time to Bull’s thrusts. 

 

Once again time stretched, the slow rhythm Bull set building a blindingly hot pleasure under Da’ean’s skin. Dorian moving listlessly under his hand as Da’ean lavished him with attention. Slowly, ever so slowly, Da’ean’s muscles turned weak and shivery with anticipation. A thin layer of sweat coated his skin, and he could taste the salt on Dorian’s, until suddenly, Bull changed his angle. 

 

Da’ean cried out, stars blinding his vision but Dorian’s hand around the base of his cock prevented him from reaching what he so desperately wanted. “Dorian,  _ sathan vhenan- _ ” Da’ean pleaded, biting down hard on Dorian’s collar. Beneath him, Dorian’s hips stuttered and thick hot seed coated Da’ean’s hand. 

 

His grip around Da’ean loosened until he was able stroke along Da’ean’s weeping cock. Da’ean could have wept, a low groan escaping him as rolled his hips against Bull, trying to find the spot Bull had skillfully avoided so far. With a chuckle, Bull pulled Da’ean back on his lap, bouncing him on his cock while Dorian watched. 

 

Da’ean panted heavily, the air hot and sticky around them, Bull’s thrusts coming harder and faster as Dorian leaned forward with a satisfied grin. “So good for us Da’ean,” Dorian said, running a single finger along Da’ean’s jaw. The singular praise was enough to push Da’ean over the edge, and he cried out, blinded completely by pleasure as he shook in Bull’s arms. 

 

He heard Bull grunt behind him and felt a flood of heat inside him, and Da’ean let out a blissed out sigh. Bull laughed lowly, before gently pulling out and going to retrieve a clean cloth. “Hey Dorian, think you could-?” A flash of light behind Da’ean’s closed eyelids had him opening them, “Thanks.” Bull dipped the cloth in the now steaming water and brought it back with him. 

 

Quickly, Bull cleaned them all off and stripped the bed of the sheets they had effectively ruined. “Glad one of us is still functional,” Dorian said with a laugh as he curled around Da’ean, watching Bull put away the wash basin. Da’ean nodded sleepily, far to gone to add anything witty. 

 

By the time Bull got back into bed with them, Da’ean was already mostly asleep. He mumbled blearily in Bull’s general direction waiting for him to pull the remaining covers back over them. Sleep came quickly, the warm afterglow and the sense of security easily carrying him to the Fade. 

__

 

The following morning Da’ean awoke to the muted glow of dawn, just starting to turn the mountains pink and gold with the first rays of sunlight, and he smiled, however faint it was it was there just like the morning light. Dorian, on his side and half rolled onto Bull to leech the simply astonishing amount of heat he gave off, shifted slightly but gave no motion towards waking. He never did, Bull was a similar story, although he was a much lighter sleeper recently he’d taken to sleeping in. 

 

With an exaggerated stretch Da’ean could feel the beginnings of bruises forming just under his skin and he reached up to trace along his neck, but he sighed happily and wormed his way out of the tangle of blankets and limbs he found himself in. Technically, he should be getting Dorian and Bull up as well, after all, they were headed out to the Hinterlands today, and it was going to be  _ magnificent _ . Inquisition scouts had finally been able to locate exactly where the dragon they had seen flying overhead the past months kept its lair and it was time to flush the beast out. 

 

But as he looked at the pair of them, still wrapped in the sheets that smelled of them, Da’ean couldn’t bring himself to wake them just yet, so instead he dressed himself quickly into his loose day clothes and slipped out the door with a last glance in their direction the ghost of a smile still playing about his lips. 

 

He headed to talk to Dagna first, before anything else the small dwarven enchanter would need to be informed of just what Da’ean was planning. Had been planning for some time now actually, ever since that night in Halamshiral, where he decided he didn’t have to fight alone. 

 

The door creaked as he pushed it open, and just as he suspected Dagna was standing over her runes, just as she was every time Da’ean walked into the Undercroft, no matter when he did so. 

 

“Good morning Dagna,” He started, wandering over to stand next to her as she perked her head up, “I’ve got a little something I want to make, think you can do it for me?” 

 

A brilliant grin split Dagna’s face and Da’ean returned it with one of his own, a necklace made from a split dragon’s tooth would be no trouble for her and Da’ean knew it. 

 

It only took a few moments before Dagna was nodding along excitedly, talking rapid fire about protection runes which could be enhanced by the use of dragon bone. Da’ean laughed, but thought about it, all he had wanted was an inscription on it, but if Dagna could fit them with runes he wouldn’t say no.  Satisfied that she would be able to work her magic, Da’ean took his leave, only to run straight into Josephine. 

 

“Oh, Inquisitor, just the person I was looking for.” Josie had a smile stretched across her face, and her ever present board in her hands, “Do you mind stopping my office for just a second?” 

 

Da’ean didn’t mind of course, but he did frown a bit in confusion, “Of course, but I do have to leave for the Hinterlands soon.”

 

With a nod, Josie looped her arm around his, pulling Da’ean toward her office, “Oh don’t worry, this won’t take long, I’m just delivering some letters.”

 

Now Da’ean was really confused, but he followed alongside Josie with a smile, “Letters? What do you need me for then?” 

 

Josie laughed, “They’re in Elvhen, from your clan I assume, I can’t read them.”

 

Ah, that explained a few things, but Da’ean felt a small worry creep into his gut, Leliana’s agents had told them the business with the Duke was over, and that the Keeper was now set up with the rest of the clan inside the city. Da’ean had been so relieved when he received the news, for over a month he had been worrying about his family, but that weight had been lifted with the arrival of the ravens Leliana used almost exclusively. “I love them but if they’ve gotten into trouble again I don’t know what we’ll be able to do about it.” 

 

“You worry so much Inquisitor, I doubt they’ve fallen into trouble again so soon.” Josie patted his hand in a warm manner, and opened the door to her office before leading them through and closing it with a click. “Really Da’ean, I know you attract trouble like a magnet but surely your whole clan cannot do so.”

 

Da’ean barked out a laugh as Josie walked over to her desk, picking up two envelopes and handing them to Da’ean. “You say that, but you’ve never met my sister.” He glanced down, reading the backs, one was a letter from Istimaethorial , the other was from Idrilla. Da’ean smiled, “Speaking of my sister..” He opened the envelope, and quickly looked over the letter from Idrilla. 

 

_ Andaran Ati’shan da’isama’lin  _

_ I do hope my letter finds you in good health, your letters have been distressingly sparing as of late. The Keeper thinks it is because you are dealing with shemlen all the time, but I think you could handle the shems. We’ve been busy up here without you, Wycome has become something new, with Istimaethorial working together not only with the shems in charge but the city elves living in the Alienage as well. There is potential here I think, but alas, I won’t be around to see it.  _

 

_ I’m on my way down to your Skyhold, don’t make that face, by the time this reaches you I should be no more than a handful of weeks away, and there will be no point in trying to convince me to turn back. I’ve missed you you see, it has been deadfully boring without my da’isama’lin to antagonize. And I want to see what you’ve built for myself, your letters have told me so little Da’ean, you should know I want details, the gossip and happenings. I’ve had to fend off Linayel, Fen’harel’s teeth that persistent bastard has been all over lately trying to hear about what has been happening with you.  _

 

_ Please take care of yourself, I won’t be there to heal you up for awhile yet, although I’m sure those circle mages know a little about healing I suppose. Maybe. At any rate, I expect to see you in full health when I get there Da’ean, anything else and I’ll have to wreak havoc on the reason why you’re not. Ar lath ma da’isama’lin. _

 

 _May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent_ _  
__Idrilla_

 

Da’ean grinned, and Josie tilted her head in his direction, “I told you, you worry too much, no bad news today.” Da’ean broke into a laugh while Josie just looked at him, “Is it something I said?”

 

Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, Da’ean couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. “No, Josie you have no idea how right you are. Or well, mostly, good for me I don’t know about good for everything else.” His grin widened in a reflection of the way Josie’s eyes expanded, “Remember how I said you’ve never met my sister? You’ll be getting your chance in less than a month.” 

 

Josie huffed a sigh of relief, “Don’t scare me like that Da’ean, you’ve been spending far too much time with Dorian.” 

 

Da’ean laughed again, “I don’t know about that,” a light feeling of joy was bubbling up inside him, and Da’ean felt like he could float if he wanted but instead he gave a small bow in Josie’s direction, “Thank you Josephine, I need to get going now,” Da’ean’s face was starting to ache from the smile still smeared across his face, “I’ve got a dragon to kill.” 

 

Da’ean left Josie’s office feeling better than he had in his recent memory, and the following hours passed in a blur of preparation. Rounding up everyone who was going with them, they set out for the Hinterlands. 

 

__

 

Da’ean looked up at the massive form of the dragon as it took off the ground with a thunderous flapping of its great leathery wings and whistled. They’d been fighting for close to a quarter of an hour now, and exhaustion formed itself into a greater foe than the dragon. His muscles burned fiercely, but the beast was on its last legs as well. 

 

Bull was hollering in the background, and Da’ean could understand why, the outline of the high dragon against the clear blue sky was something he couldn’t put into coherent words. Instead, he unslung his bow and held it up in Sera’s direction. 

 

“First one to take out an eye doesn’t have to buy drinks for a week.” Da’ean said, notching an arrow. 

 

Sera laughed, “Make it three and you’ve got a deal.” She too, notched an arrow, searching for the dragon in the sky. 

 

“Done.” 

 

They grinned at each other, before setting their sights on the dragon. Almost in unison they found her, lining up their shots as one they both took a breath and held it. Turning as the dragon did above them, its beady eyes staring them down as it opened its maw to fire a blast of flame in their direction, Sera and Da’ean let their arrows fly in sync. 

 

Instantly the dragon roared, the fire sweeping in a wide arc over their heads as the pair ducked down below it, the heat singeing the tops of their hair. Sera whooped excitedly and Da’ean couldn’t help but to mimic her cry. “There’s no way we missed!” 

 

A deafening crash came from behind them, and Bull roared out a challenge to the dragon that made Da’ean roll his eyes. He picked himself up off the ground and whirled around to see if they had made their shots, and sure enough they had. Two arrows, one with its distinctive Dalish fletching and the other with the hodgepodge fletching Sera favored, stuck out of the dragon’s bleeding blind eyes. 

 

Without its sight, the dragon was felled all the quicker, Da’ean hurriedly putting his bow aside to draw his daggers now that they could once again sink into the dragon’s scaley hide. Quickly, he dashed up one of the dragon’s forelegs, the great beast roaring and snapping its jaws at him but unable to find him before Da’ean had nimbly run up and onto its back. With a yell Da’ean plunged his daggers deeply into the base of the dragon’s skull; the small area reverberating with the beast’s death throes, Da’ean almost falling off as the dragon twisted and shifted beneath him. 

 

All too soon, the dragon stilled and fell completely to the ground with a mighty thud, shaking the ground around them. A tad shakily, enough adrenaline coursing through him to make his skin crawl with it, Da’ean slid off the neck of the dragon and quickly yanked a large tooth from its open jaws. 

 

Just in time, the moment Da’ean had slipped the tooth into a pocket in his pouch he was lifted off the ground by Bull with a triumphant shout. “Da’ean! That was  _ magnificent _ !” 

 

Da’ean laughed breathlessly as he clutched Bull’s arms. “Wasn’t it!” He was shaking with energy, and he tilted himself down to kiss Bull recklessly. Heat crawled up his cheeks and ears a burning crimson staining his skin. 

 

Dorian cleared his throat at them, leaning confidently on his staff, “If that’s the reward for beating a dragon you might be able to drag me out to more of these.” A brilliant smile lit up his face almost causing Da’ean’s heart to skip a beat. His fingers ghosted over the pocket where the dragon’s tooth was hidden.

 

“Strong on its own but stronger together. A soul neatly divided between three.” Cole’s voice echoed in his ears, “They’ll love it.” When he’d asked the spirit for help Da’ean hadn’t been expecting his answer to be so simple, or to make as much sense as it did. But now with the invisible weight of the tooth Da’ean had never felt more secure in his decision. It would take them hours to get back to skyhold. But once there Da’ean knew for sure three things would happen. He’d give the tooth to Dagna, who would enchant and engrave it after splitting it into three. Leliana already knew about his plan. And Dorian would complain of the cold and start a fire in the rooms. 

__

 

Wind howled across the battlements of Skyhold and shook the panes of the glass windows in Da’ean’s room with enough force to wake him from the deep exhausted sleep that had overcome him, and Dorian and Bull for that matter. A clap of thunder directly outside had him shooting up with his heart racing, catching himself in the sheets a only after his eyes adjusted to the soft light and he could hear the faint breathing of Dorian and Bull’s snores over his own startled gasps. Dorian reached out with a sleep warm hand and a mumbled “ _ Amatus? _ ” Quickly, Da’ean picked up his hand and placed a kiss on the back of it, “Go back to sleep  _ lath. _ ” Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Da’ean carefully extracted himself from the sheets and stretched. 

 

With the storm brewing outside, the temperature had dropped sharply, but Dorian had lit a fire in the hearth earlier, though it had long since burned down to embers. However slight, it was still enough to keep the chill off Da'ean's bare legs as he wandered over to the balcony doors. Pressing against the cool glass to open them, Da’ean stepped outside into the downpour to have his hair instantly plastered against his skull and down his neck. 

 

Da’ean grinned and turned his face up into the rain, lifting his arms up in another stretch as the storm raged around him. A sense of peace settled over him like a warm blanket, secure and welcome. He glanced back inside through the door he had left ajar, not that he could see in. Even with his elven vision the room was too dark to make out much beyond the barest of outlines.  

 

“Were you feeling hot boss?” Da’ean’s ears twitched, he thought he heard a slight scraping noise but it must have been Bull’s voice barely reaching him over the sound of the rain. 

 

Grin widening, Da’ean turned back to face Bull and shrugged, “Just wanted to feel the rain.” He lowered his hands out in front of himself with his wet shirt sticking to his arms. 

 

A streak of bright lightning split the sky lighting up their bedroom and Da’ean could see Bull sitting slightly up while Dorian was still bundled up in blankets. The split second of light faded and left only spots in Da’ean vision to prove it had been there at all. 

 

“Come back to bed Da’ean.” 

 

“All wet?” Da’ean laughed, “Think what Dorian would say.” 

 

“Dry off by the fire then, you’ll catch cold staying out there and then Dorian  _ really _ will fuss.” 

 

Da’ean could hear the chuckle in Bull’s voice, and he softened his grin. “Just a few more minutes  _ vhenan _ .” 

 

That same scraping noise again, although this time it was followed by a soft wet thud. Da’ean scrunched his brow in confusion but before he could turn around an arm wrapped itself around his neck. 

 

“The Venatori send their regards.” Came a guttural voice from just behind his ear as the arm around his neck blocked off his air and Da’ean gasped around nothing. He could feel a pressure pressed against his back, and then fire imploded in his veins. Blood rose in his throat and he dropped his head to cough blood on the black dripping dagger protruding from his stomach, his wide eyes reflected in the glint of the blade.

 

The assassin twisted the blade embedded in Da’ean’s abdomen savagely before abruptly tearing it back out. It was a pain the likes of which Da’ean had never conceived of, fire was shooting underneath his skin and it was as though ice had covered part of his side leaving it numb. Da’ean screamed around the blood in his throat, but the arm around his neck ensured only a gurgle made it past his lips. 

 

Another lightning bolt split the sky, and with the light Da’ean could see a red stain spreading across his thin nightshirt, thick and dark and violent. He also heard Bull’s shout of his name in a voice Da’ean had heard only hints of when Gaat had told him to let the Chargers die. Da’ean’s legs crumpled beneath him as the arm around his neck suddenly released him. 

 

Back against the ground, Da’ean could only choke on his own blood as he lay in a heap on the cold wet stone of his balcony. Rain falling against his face as his blood boiled with the liquid fire that raced through him. He heard a crashing noise, followed by a muffled curse before he felt large familiar hands picking him up to cradle him. 

 

“ _ Shit _ .” Bull’s face loomed in Da’ean’s vision, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he held Da’ean to his chest. “Dorian! Go tell Cullen there’s been an intruder, and grab Solas and Vivienne!”

 

With the edges of his vision fading out into nothing Da’ean couldn’t see Dorian, but he could hear his agonized gasp and whispered “ _ Amatus _ !” Before he heard footsteps race toward the door and down the stairs. 

 

Da’ean drew a ragged breath, “ _ Ar lath ma. _ ” He’d never been able to say it before, not even to himself beyond a daydream. But he couldn’t let it go unsaid, if he was dying - and Da’ean,  _ Mythal enaste _ , sure felt as though he was dying- Da’ean needed to speak it aloud.  _  “Ar lath ma. Ar lat _ -” he managed to get out without the words being too strangled before he coughed harshly, spraying part of Bull’s chest with blood. 

 

Bull stumbled, but didn’t acknowledge Da’ean’s words just put him down on the bed as gently as he could. Da’ean shuddered, his eyes rolling back as the pain in his stomach threatened to overwhelm him. Leaving him to be caught unawares when Bull pressed down on his wound hard with something soft and cushiony. 

 

This time Da’ean’s scream reached the air and sundered it. 

 

“Da’ean, fuck,  _ Da’ean _ listen I have to stop the bleeding.” Bull’s voice was shaking far more than his hands had been just moments before, although the pillow pressed tightly against his abdomen was solid as rock. 

 

Blood gurgling in his throat, Da’ean stopped fighting, allowing the waves of firey pain to wash over him and take him under. He tried one last time, “ _ Ar lath ma _ ” his voice raw and fading as his eyes shut of their own accord. He simply didn’t have the strength to keep them open any more. 

 

“Da’ean!  _ Da’ean! _ Fuck, keep yours eyes open Da’ean.” Bull’s voice was fading too, as though he was further away from him than the scant inches that separated them. “ _ Kadan- _ ” 

 

It was too much, Da’ean felt himself slipping off and instead of staying Da’ean let go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [griffin mcelroy voice] SEE THAT SHIT, THAT'S AUDIENCE RETENTION  
> For real, don't worry, I wouldn't kill off my boy like that. This is the part where things go hard, but guess what guys! Da'ean's a strong boy, and this is the beginning of the end for this story. I.. Cannot express with words how thankful I am for you guys, you've really kept this story alive.  
> TRANSLATIONS:  
> Salath vhenan- "please [my] heart"  
> Ar lath ma- "I love you."


	12. Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

The slight rustle of sheets against his skin caused Dorian to blearily turn over and reach out a hand, “ _ Amatus _ ?” A calloused hand grabbed his own and chapped lips placed a soft kiss on the back of it. Da’ean’s warm voice drifted over him, slightly lilting with his accent as he told Dorian to go back to sleep, punctuating the end with one of the many elvhen endearments Dorian still didn’t know the meaning of. Didn’t  _ want _ to know the meaning of them if he was being honest with himself, if he knew what they meant, Dorian would have to confront the fact that he’s been saying them back. 

 

But now, warm and sleepy, Dorian simply turns back over, throwing a leg over Bull’s to leech his body heat. A creak in the bed frame and the dip next to him tells him Da’ean’s left their bed. Again. Bull, partially underneath him, shifts and raises himself out of the sheets, taking them with him and off of Dorian, who shivers in the sudden cold. He can hear Bull’s gravelly voice in the night air, but he can’t make out Da’ean’s response although it causes Bull to chuckle beside him. 

 

It’s the thunder which shakes through the room which really wakes Dorian, rudely jolting him from the pleasant doze he’d been falling into. Blinking himself into full consciousness Dorian, too, sits up and looks up at Bull. “Balcony again?” Bull nods, a faint smile pulling at his scarred lips. Until a second burst of lightning lights the room, and the balcony beyond it. Dorian watches Bull’s face turn ashen, blood draining from his features as he yells out Da’ean’s name in such a way Dorian could feel his own blood run cold. 

 

He turned to look outside, onto the balcony Da’ean always chose to step out onto because it was the closest to their bed and his heart stopped in his chest. Da’ean was not alone on that balcony, and Dorian could see lightning reflect off a blade jutting from his stomach. The figure behind Da’ean ripped the dagger out of his  _ amatus _ with a vicious jerk, and Dorian froze. He could do nothing more than watch as Da’ean crumpled to the ground as the air froze around him. Da’ean’s outline falling in slow motion in front of him, Dorian’s own heart pounding in his throat. 

 

A loud crash came from his side as Bull rushed over, moving when Dorian could not. He reached Da’ean in seconds, picking him up and cradling him. “Dorian! Go tell Cullen there’s been an intruder, and grab Solas and Vivienne!” 

 

With the direction, Dorian’s breath returned to him and an agonized gasp ripped itself from his lungs. “ _ Amatus.. _ ” He tore away from the bed, suddenly sick with himself. Nothing, he had done  _ nothing _ as he watched one of the only lights in his life be extinguished right before his eyes. Dorian flew down the stairs, not even bothering to remember he was in nothing but a long shirt, headed to the rotunda; opening the doors before him with his magic before he reached them to save time as he ran. 

 

Dorian’s blood was pounding in his veins just as his fist was pounding on Solas’ door. The other mage opened it with a disgruntled look on his face, “Dorian?” 

 

On wobbly legs, Dorian could have collapsed against the doorframe, “Solas... He.. Da’ean’s in.. Help him! Please!” Dorian panted as the air in his lungs failed him without warning, and tears began to burn behind his eyelids. “Please, Solas..” The words stuck in his throat like poisoned wine, thick and sticky and bitter. 

 

But not for long, as Solas was already moving past him, a frown visible on his features. “I see. Go alert Cullen Dorian, do not worry.” 

 

Solas’ words would have hurt less if he had hurled them as daggers, as it was they clung like ice to Dorian’s chest. His legs still weak beneath him Dorian gathered himself in the span of a few tear soaked breathes and pushed himself upright, and headed out the door to Cullen’s office. Mind blank as he ran, legs burning less than the sting of tears against his cheeks.

 

As soon as he did the rain plastered his hair against his face, hiding the tears streaking through the remnants of his kohl as he dashed across the wet stone, bare feet splashing through the water accumulating there. Lightning flashed across the sky once more and in it, Dorian could see not the tower in front of him but only Da’ean’s form outlined against the bright white. Broken and collapsed while Dorian could only watch. 

 

With an almighty effort, Dorian swallowed his fear and burst through Cullen’s door, yelling up into the room above where he slept. “Cullen! There’s been an attack on Da’ean!” His voice shook but his legs no longer did as Cullen’s head popped over the rail, his eyes widening as he took Dorian in. 

 

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen disappeared, only to reappear a moment later on the ladder, fully dressed. “Alright, I’ll alert Leliana first, we’ll be there.” He, too, moved past Dorian heading outside into the rain. Towards Da’ean. 

 

As the door swung only partially shut behind him Dorian’s breath shuddered in his chest and his strength fled him as he dropped to the floor. The rain outside managing to still fall against the skin of his clenched hands against the stone. Or at least, he told himself it was the rain. Dorian gasped around the emptiness inside his chest; he felt.. Numb. The only sensation left to him was one of denial because this couldn’t be happening. Dorian refused, it had to be a bad dream, a nightmare he would wake up any moment from now. Any moment now he would open his eyes and Da’ean would be in front of him, that special smile reserved for himself and Bull on Da’ean’s face. Any moment now... 

 

Any moment... Any... 

 

A sob wracked through Dorian’s chest, tearing at his heart on its way through his throat. How could he have done  _ nothing _ as he watched?  _ How could he have done nothing but watch Da’ean die? _ Tears swam across Dorian’s vision when he opened his eyes, the whole world blurry and out of focus through them. He couldn’t... Da’ean couldn’t die on him. His  _ amatus _ ... Dorian slammed his hands against the stone floor bringing his head up to look outside into the storm. 

 

He was doing nothing  _ again _ . 

 

Thunder cracked through the air around him, reminding him of his strength. Rain ha- Is Da’ean’s favorite weather, Dorian saw Da’ean’s smile as he dragged them out into the rain in camp just to feel it fall on their skin as he kissed Dorian like he could last forever there. 

 

Dorian stood up. He would not do nothing again, he couldn’t not when Bull was up in their room with Da’ean. So instead Dorian picked himself off the floor and started running back to him.

 

__

 

“Just a few more minutes  _ vhenan _ ” 

 

It would have been a lie to stop the smile spreading across his face so Bull didn’t. He watched Da’ean stretch in the rain, soaking through his thin shirt to stick to Da’ean’s wiry form underneath. There was something raw about the way Da’ean sought out bad weather, something primal and vulnerable about the way he dragged them out into it just to share the moment. Through the rain Bull could just barely make out the shape of Da’ean, although he must have been more tired than he thought because for a moment he thought he saw two outlines on the balcony superimposed. 

 

In that moment lightning split the sky and Bull realized he wasn’t tired at all. Time slowed to a virtual standstill as the light allowed Bull to clearly see Da’ean. Held by the neck inches off the ground by a dark clothed figure who had at least a foot on him. Da’ean’s head was slumped forward, mouth slack and dripping as his legs twitched beneath him. 

 

The most damnable thing the lightning illuminated was the dagger sticking out from Da’ean’s stomach glinting silver as it dripped crimson and thick sticky black on the stone floor. In that moment Bull understood why love was not permitted under the Qun. 

 

“ _ Da’ean! _ ” 

 

Darkness encroached upon the room as the lightning faded from the sky, leaving Bull to fumble as he landed on his bum leg, crashing to the floor. Bull cursed as he hurried up, the pain in his leg nothing compared to the fear in his veins. By the time he made it to Da’ean, the dark figure had already disappeared and Bull’s vision ran red. 

 

It wouldn’t do to fall into a reaver rage here, not when Da’ean was lying crumpled on the ground just in front of him, his shirt stained a deep violent crimson across the bottom half. Bull knelt down, bum leg be damned, and with shaking hands picked Da’ean up as gently as he could to bring him to his chest. In his arms, Da’ean felt too light, as if the wind gusting outside would be enough to carry him away. 

 

Just hours ago Bull had been marveling at the same thought, his hands around Da’ean’s waist almost large enough to circle it completely. It would have been so easy for someone like him to have crushed Da’ean with just his hands. Da’ean had looked up at him with heat in his eyes and a challenge on his lips then, but now when Bull looked down Da’ean’s eyelids were flickering and his skin was cold as ice. 

 

A faint whisper came from Da’ean, followed by a slightly stronger rasp. “ _ Ar lath ma _ .” Bull faltered for just a moment, barely long enough for Da’ean to repeat himself once, then twice before he shuddered against Bull’s chest coughing and choking on the blood that sprayed against Bull’s skin. 

 

This time Bull did stumble at the sight of Da’ean in his arms like this... Bull had never heard Da’ean say those words before, and he didn’t know the meaning but he sure as fuck could guess. It took every ounce of himself to place Da’ean down on the bed they had shared not minutes ago, Da’ean hissing slightly as his wound was jostled, his brilliant eyes rolling back in his head. Reaching over him, Bull quickly grabbed a pillow and, with hands steady as his years of training finally kicked in, pressed it down hard against the open gash in Da’ean’s stomach.

 

Da’ean screamed the sound lancing through Bull’s chest with physical force. “Da’ean, fuck _ , Da’ean _ listen I have to stop the bleeding.” There was little Bull could do other than keep the pillow pressed against the wound before Da’ean bled out beneath him, Bull knew that but knowledge couldn’t stop his gut feeling of helplessness as Da’ean writhed in agony under his hands. 

 

“ _ Ar lath ma _ ” Da’ean’s voice was faded, nothing close to his usual warmth instead his voice was raw as his eyes fluttered shut. 

 

“Da’ean!  _ Da’ean _ ! Fuck, keep your eyes open Da’ean.”  There was no denying the break in Bull’s voice, no denying the shake which crept into his hands. “ _ Kadan. _ Keep your eyes open Da’ean,  _ please _ .” Bull lowered his head, hands still pressed down hard against the pillow over Da’ean’s stomach. 

 

Under his hands, Bull could still feel the barest of movements as Da’ean’s breathing grew shallower until he could no longer feel Da’ean draw breath. 

 

_ No. _ No this couldn’t be happening, with trembling hands Bull pulled Da’ean closer to himself, forgetting in his haste to keep any pressure on his wound. Icy fear lancing through him Bull searched desperately for a heartbeat, or breath, or any sign Da’ean was still hanging on. 

 

The door to their room slammed open as Bull whipped his head up, vision blurred from tears and streaked with red as he tried desperately to contain the reaver rage boiling in his gut. Blinking rapidly, he was able to make out Solas as he quickly walked over to Da’ean’s side a frown carved deeply into his features. 

 

Solas took in the scene quickly, eyes darting from Da’ean to the blood on Bull’s hands and chest to the open balcony doors. Without wasting a breath he approached Da’ean, his hands outstretched in front of him in a pacifying gesture. “Oh _lethalin_.  _ Ir abelas. _ ” The familiar soft green glow of healing spirit magic engulfed Solas’ hands as he placed them over Da’ean’s stomach, removing the pillow from Bull’s now limp hands. He spared a glance in Bull’s direction as he worked and sighed, “Knight to E3.” 

 

“Not the time Solas” Bull growled out, his tears splintering his voice like cracks in glass, brittle and easily understood. He was still partially hunched protectively over Da’ean, head bowed over Da’ean’s deathly still form. In the light coming from Solas’ hands, Bull could just make out a subtle rise and fall of Da’ean’s chest the sight shattering the barrier he had built so rapidly at the sight of Da’ean’s still chest around his heart. 

 

Not dropping his magic, or even bothering to look at him again, Solas threw a hand off to the side. “If you don’t need a distraction then you should be fine with me healing the Inquisitor over there.” 

 

_ Shit _ . What foolishness, he was acting like a child underfoot. But... Bull couldn’t back away, he couldn’t even  _ look _ away from Da’ean, not when Bull was so unsure Da’ean would still be alive when he looked back. The fear that clogged his veins was something Bull had thought himself long since immune to yet it reared its head every time his eyes landed on the ugly wound in Da’ean’s stomach. 

 

Bull took a deep breath and a step back;  _ kost, _ he needed to seek peace, there was nothing he could do except get in Solas’ way if he continued to hover like this. As much as... As much as he needed to stay close to Da’ean, Bull understood staying would mean Da’ean would not be able to fight as hard as he needed. One step at a time he retreated, although his eyes never left Da’ean’s sallow face. 

 

Just as his back hit the wall Dorian’s head appeared from the stairwell and he was a mess. Rain dripped from his disheveled hair but his puffy eyes and red nose told Bull the streaks in his kohl was not only from the weather. A single glance in Da’ean’s direction was all Dorian could manage before he tore his gaze away and stumbled his way to Bull in a daze. 

 

As soon as he was close enough, Bull grabbed Dorian’s shoulder and pulled him flush against himself. Holding Dorian in his arms, trembling and a mess but  _ alive _ only reinforced the ache lodged in Bull’s chest. Da’ean was  _ right there _ yet he might as well have been on the other side of Thedas, unreachable and distant in a way Bull had never before dealt with and the reality of it left a throbbing pain behind with every beat of his heart. 

 

“ _ Amatus _ ..” Dorian’s voice was thick with choked back tears as he slumped against Bull’s chest. Only by the shaking of his shoulders would anyone else have been able to tell he was crying but Bull could feel Dorian’s tears fall against his skin to mingle with Da’ean’s blood. Needing the contact, Bull bent his head down to place a fierce kiss on the crown of Dorian’s head, pulling him even closer to himself. 

 

Time passed, how long Bull didn’t know, didn’t care about finding out. Eventually, the rain ended, along with Dorian’s tears as he wore himself into an exhausted sleep against Bull, his features visible in the light of the breaking dawn. As carefully as he could Bull managed to lower himself to the ground while holding Dorian without waking him as he waited in the dark for something,  _ anything _ to happen to let him know what was going on. Some sort of sign, but Solas never moved from his ministrations, standing above Da’ean for hours as the sky lightened above them and the advisors all made their way to Da’ean’s quarters. Josie had gasped while Cullen swore, neither of them moving closer than a cursory look at Da’ean as Solas continued to heal him. Leliana never came, not that Bull had been expecting her to, but by the time the sun had turned the sky a rosy pink he couldn’t enjoy Solas finally dropped the green glow from his hands as his magic faded. 

 

“He’ll live.” Solas’ voice was weary, but it cut through Josie’s worried pacing back and forth across the room. “There is, however, something you should know.” 

 

Bull’s blood froze in his veins, the drowsiness falling away from his mind at Solas’ pinched expression. “And what’s that?” Damn his voice was rough, but it carried far enough in the abruptly still air. Dorian stirred in his arms, jostled from sleep by Bull’s words. 

 

Solas glanced back at Da’ean, “Whatever poison the assassin coated his blade in.. I’ve never seen its like. I’ve stabilized him, but the effects remain. I’m afraid the damage done will not be something I can reverse.” He paused, looking at Bull. “He is alive, but he may never wake from this.” 

 

Something within Bull’s heart cracked, a deep resonating ache filled his chest as a small wet cry came from Dorian. 

 

“You cannot be serious!” Josephine spoke up with her own eyes damp, “You cannot possibly be serious Solas.” 

 

Solas shook his head just as Cullen walked over to Josie to place a hand on her shoulder. “If you’re right, Maker’s breath, what will happen to the Inquisition.” 

 

_ Kost _ . Deep breaths, nothing about this was certain.  _ Maraas shokra _ . Solas had said ‘may’ there... “Solas, it’s possible Da’ean  _ will _ wake up from this?” 

 

“It is possible but unlikely.” Unforgiving bastard. Solas turned to face them all in earnest, “I’ve never seen this before. His body is healed, yet his spirit... Wanders the Fade untethered and cannot come back.” He shook his head, “I do not understand it. But I will scour the Fade to ask for help,” With a raised hand Solas nodded his head in their direction, “Immediately.” and took his leave. 

 

With Solas gone Bull could make out Da’ean laying, still in his bloody nightshirt, on the rumpled sheets of their bed. And while it was shallow, he saw Da’ean’s chest rise and fall with life. If Bull had believed in any god he would have thanked them, as it was he could only breathe a sigh of relief he had been holding in his chest for hours, the weight of it lifting from him. 

 

“I should... I will make preparations.” Josie said, glancing at Da’ean before she, too, left the room. Cullen followed her wordlessly a wooden expression across his face, the door shutting behind them with an all too final echo. 

 

A second choked hiccup came from Dorian who had pressed his forehead against Bull’s chest. Generally when Dorian was rendered speechless Bull had his own actions to be proud of or an action of Da’ean’s to build on. Now? The aching silence stretched as the only sound came from Dorian’s stifled cries, sitting between them with physical weight. A paralysis had crawled through his skin to settle in his bones, the only thing Bull could do was clutch as hard to Dorian as Dorian was to him, both of them left with bruises in the shape of desperate fingers. 

 

Dawn broke over the Frostbacks, the rising sun staining the clouds left over from the storm blushing shades of orange and pink and violet. In the growing light, all Bull could see was the ashen color to Da’ean’s skin, the dried blood on his shirt, and the shallowness of Da’ean’s breaths. Dorian’s hands gripped his arms and he shifted in Bull’s tight embrace, “We...” His voice cracked and broke upon the fractals of his tears, “We should clean him up at least, he shouldn’t... We need to get the blood out of..” Dorian broke off as his voice faltered, unsure how to put an end to the sentence. 

 

With a weak and weary nod, Bull stands bringing Dorian up with him, both of them unsteady and swaying and supporting the other. Dorian warmed the water in the wash basin while Bull searched for a pair of clean sleep clothes to put Da’ean into. Quick and trembling hands clean the blood congealing on Da’ean’s cold skin, bringing color back to the surface as silence permeated the room. 

 

The utter stillness of Da’ean on their rain-soaked sheets, the blood-soaked water in the basin, the slight noise of Dorian’s sniffles all added to the panic crystallizing inside Bull’s chest. He shook his head to clear it as the air in his lungs grew thick enough to choke him. Clogging his thoughts were unbidden images of Da’ean held dangling by the neck, of that damn dagger, dripping, of Da’ean broken and bleeding on the floor, of his  _ kadan _ lifeless and ashen while Bull was too late to stop it. 

 

Dorian’s hand on his arm jerked him back to the present. Without a word he reached up and cupped Bull’s face in his hand, gently wiping away the tears Bull had not realized he had shed. The piercing pain in Dorian’s eyes Bull could feel echoing in his own, and he grasped Dorian’s wrist. 

 

“He’ll be alright,” Dorian whispered as if the words were meant to convince himself of it first. “We just have to wait.” 

 

It took hours, but with the help of the inner circle as they were told the news they set up a vigil. Several chairs were brought up from Maker knew where and placed around the room, while healing candles were lit and set above the bed once the sheets were changed. Hours bled into days without change and soon the entirety of Skyhold was buzzing with rumors about Da’ean’s sudden vanishing act. 

 

Five days into their wait Bull couldn’t stay in the room anymore. He took to the training grounds, Krem said nothing but sparred with him to let Bull vent. With each passing heartbeat, it grew less and less likely Da’ean would wake, with every swing of Bull’s axe he grew further and further away from peace. 

 

A week into the vigil Dorian was doing more research into spirit healing than he had ever imagined himself capable. As it turns out, the sight of his  _ amatus _ lying in a sleep he might never wake from was an excellent motivator for the subject. But there was no progress to be found. None of the books in Skyhold held any useful information, Vivienne in all of her talents could not come up with a solution, and none of Solas’ spirits knew anything beyond whispers and twisted memories of a black poison that killed the spirit instead of the body. 

 

On the dawn of the thirteenth day since Da’ean had fallen silent Dorian found himself waking with his face halfway pressed against the side of the bed, Da’ean’s hand held in his own as the sun shone through the clouds. It was almost peaceful, for a moment Dorian could pretend Da’ean would wake in the silent space between one breath and the next, a smile flashing in his eyes while he pulled Dorian closer to himself. Instead, minutes slid by without Da’ean opening his eyes, without a change just as the rest of the days had passed before. 

 

Dorian sighed heavily and placed a dry kiss on the back of Da’ean’s hand before standing. Behind him on the stairs, he could hear Bull coming up to check on him, to check on them both. Dorian glanced at the stairs just as Bull was rounding them, a question as clear in his eye as the eyepatch was on his face. When Dorian shook his head Bull echoed Dorian’s earlier sigh. 

 

Yawning, Bull walked over and dropped a kiss on Dorian’s head before turning to the wash basin. It was so close to a normal morning Dorian’s heart ached with it, tomorrow would mark two weeks since he had last seen Da’ean’s smile, two weeks since he had last heard Da’ean’s voice. The wait was weighing down on them, each second adding a tangible tension. 

 

Both of them startled when Dagna popped her head over the stairs. “Iron Bull! Dorian! I hoped I could find you here!” In her hands was a long thin wooden box which she gripped tightly to herself. “I… The Inquisitor is he... He wanted to give these to you himself but I couldn’t keep them anymore in the Undercroft.” She thrust out the box in their direction, and Bull being the closest took it from her with a crease in his brow. 

 

“Whew! Okay, delivered,” Dagna quickly peeked over at Da’ean before taking off back down the stairs, “Let me know if they need to be adjusted!” 

 

Bull stared down at the box in his hands as apprehension grew in his bones. It was heavy not because it had any physical weight but because Da’ean had requested whatever was inside be made. For Dorian and himself specifically. 

 

“Well.” Dorian voiced as he stepped closer, “Do let me know if you decide to open it.” He placed a hand on Bull’s arm and looked from Bull’s face to the box he held. 

 

Taking a breath to calm the abrupt racing of his heart, Bull lifted the lid of the box to reveal a sight that stopped it in his chest. Sitting innocently in the box was a dragon’s tooth, split into thirds each with a thin leather cord wrapped with intricate knots Bull recognized from Da’ean’s clothing. Bull’s breath stuttered out of his lungs and he nearly dropped the box, he would have if Dorian had not grabbed onto it around his hands. “ _ Kadan _ .” The word was ripped from him, heavy and real in a way Bull had never considered possible. 

 

Dorian traced the top tooth with a delicate fingertip, “I’m assuming these mean something to you.” He took it from the box, the cord hanging untied between his fingers. “Here, bend down a bit.” 

 

Tears bit at his eye as Bull hastily lowered his head so Dorian could reach his neck to tie the necklace around it. Tapping the tooth against Bull’s sternum where it rested Dorian looked up at him, “Do... Do these mean something?” 

 

“They’re made to show commitment." Bull choked around the words, "Except not really because how many people go about killing dragons now.” The tooth was sharp against his skin, the razor edges of it biting into him. Bull had never wanted anything as much as he wanted that necklace to remain around his neck. 

 

Dorian picked up the next one, turning it over in his hands only to gasp as the other side glowed faintly with the light of a protection rune inscribed on it. In scrawling Elvhen three lines bordered the rune, the words highlighted with the same soft blue glow. Bull recognized Da’ean’s handwriting and he was struck with the realization of how long Da’ean must have had these planned. A month easily, probably longer. And now he was unable to see the fruits of his labors. 

 

Gently, Bull took the necklace from Dorian and tied it around his neck. A sheen of tears filmed over Dorian’s own eyes as he too looked over to Da’ean. “ _ Amatus.. _ ” 

 

Almost at the same moment they stepped forward and brought the box with the remaining necklace over to Da’ean. With shaking hands the two of them managed to knot the necklace around Da’ean’s neck, lying in to rest solidly against his sternum. 

 

Just as Dorian thought he might have heard Da’ean sigh the door down the stairs opened with force and quick footsteps sounded on the stairs. Josie’s head appeared first, an unharmonious look of hope and joy and worry and grief playing on her face. Behind her emerged two sets of faces neither Bull nor Dorian had seen before but both could immediately recognize. 

 

An elf with dark hair in a loose bun and skin just a hair lighter than Da’ean’s but still darker than Dorian’s stood next to a much taller elvhen woman. Dorian gasped audibly when she met his gaze because her eyes were a dead match for Da’ean’s. The rest of her too was so similar to his  _ amatus _ lying behind him, her dark skin and dark auburn hair haloed around her face in tight curls while bright gold.. What did Da’ean call it... Vallaslin split her face into two halves. 

  
Josie smiled at him, “Dorian, Bull I’d like to introduce you.”    
  
The woman with Da’ean’s eyes stepped forward, “Idrilla Lavellan," she began with a voice like rushing water. "I’ve been told my brother needs some healing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaa! She's HERE.


	13. Once again, starting anew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rises from the ashes of my graduation like Mushu, i lived bitch.  
> whoohooo! I'm finally able to post a new chapter <3

A late spring frost crunched beneath Idrilla’s feet as she rounded the last corner before Skyhold; the castle rising from out behind the mountains, dawn light spilling between the peaks to paint the stone honey gold and budding pink. Leaning forward on her staff as she halted her pace, Idrilla’s gaze lingered on the mountains before whistling her appreciation of the massive place. “Linayel, look at this, it’s beautiful.”

Small green buds grew on the trees around them, the grass under their feet sharp with frost but gleamingly brilliant in color, new shoots sprouting from the packed dirt. Idrilla breathed in the scent of spring and knew peace.

Until Linayel snorted behind her, “Sure it’s pretty but my ass is freezing. Hurry up I want to make it before my skin goes blue.”

“You’re just complaining because I woke you up after I finished the last of the coffee.” Idrilla readjusts her grip on her staff, amusement and faked airs coloring her voice as she starts up a brisk pace toward Skyhold “It is barely even cold.”

An elbow to her side and a pointed grin later Idrilla could admit she was cold too.

Almost skipping Linayel passed her, “What do you think _ma nas’falon_ is up to? You never got a reply back from your last letter right?” He turned around to stick his tongue out at Idrilla who scowled to hide a grin. “Think he’s got himself into trouble?”

Picking up her pace to catch up with Linayel Idrilla hummed playfully, “I think he’s managed to find more than enough trouble without you so far.”

Linayel pouted, “It’s been so _boring_ Idrilla, I refuse to believe he’d cause trouble without me.”

“Then maybe I should make sure you keep to yourself.” The grin she’d been fighting won out and spread across her face, “After all if it keeps Da’ean out of trouble-”

With a laugh, Linayel cut her off, “Fine alright I promise not to make _too_ big a mess.”

With the gates now just before the pair of them they both slow, a curt voice rings through the dawn air, breaking the silence between the still mountain peaks.  “State your business!”

Idrilla rolled her eyes but spoke up “We’re here to meet with your Inquisitor.” Not bothering to stop or even to slow her pace Idrilla crosses the threshold into the massive fort, the odd feeling of the veil in this place shifting around her as she looked around. “Where is he?”

“The Inquisitor is not taking guests, nor requests at the moment.” The guard before them says in the same harsh tone, “I suggest you seek aid elsewhere.”

Ah. Of course, Idilla sighs and pulling herself up to her full height, Idrilla looks down at the guard and allowing some of the force she’s learned from Istimaethoriel over the years to seep into her voice as she says, “I believe he’d make an exception for his older sister wouldn’t you agree.”  

The guard withers instantly under her gaze and words, staring at her face as his composure quickly falters, “A- I see” Hastily he motions to the others and Idrilla and Linayel passing through with purposeful strides. “The Inquisitor, he, um. I’ll show you to the Lady Ambassador.”

Behind her Idrilla can feel Linayel’s smug grin radiating from him, fighting a grin of her own again Idrilla turns back to Linayel,  “ _Don’t._ ”

Linayel winks but doesn’t say anything as they’re lead through the courtyard, attracting all manners of stares from those gathered around. Tight lips and tired eyes on almost every face they passed, Idrilla frowned slightly as she took it in. The nobles inside the main castle had impatient airs and were not slow to show their disdain for Idrilla or Linayel’s appearance, but they, too, were looking rather stretched.

The atmosphere of the place is, unsettling. It was almost as if a hush had settled over the entire place, the stillness of a surprised breath caught between teeth. Knocking on a door the guard leaves them when a voice with familiar accent answers to let them inside.

“If you’re here about th-” The lady sitting at the desk stops as soon as she looks up at the door, “Oh. _Oh_.”

Idrilla smiles warmly, “Lady Josephine Montilyet I assume?” There wasn’t anyone else she could be, dressed like the sun and sitting behind a desk larger than she was. Dark circles were hiding under a thin layer of masterfully applied makeup, but Idrilla was able to find them, along with a few too many stray hairs and hollow cheeks she assumed the Ambassador normally didn’t allow.

Dropping her smile slowly in favor of a worried half frown, Idrilla steps further into the room. “I did send a letter about my arrival, did Da’ean not tell you?”

The exhaustion in Montilyet’s eyes grew darker, “About the Inquisitor, there is something you should know. I will explain everything, but please I can show you to his quarters after I have explained.” Even her voice was weary around the edges, and Idrilla’s fingers grew cold.

“What happened to my brother?” Idrilla’s voice was steady, but behind her, Linayel stepped forward matching her stance to stand next to her, a languid presence not entirely meant to be comforting.

Montilet takes a deep breath, motioning them towards the chair, “It is not a long story, but you may wish to sit for it anyway.” The pair looks at each other but remains standing, the coldness in Idrilla’s fingers spreading up her arms in a slow climb.

Standing herself now, Montilet nods and begins “Two weeks ago, there was an attempt on the Inquisitor’s life, he was severely injured but our resident healer was able to stabilize him.”

Deep within Idrilla, a storm began to brew, icy winds filling her veins as her heart slowed in her chest. Two weeks ago she’d been making camp just this side of the Waking Sea with Linayel, bemoaning the lack of proper weather before warding their tents against the rain. Two weeks ago she’d been laughing over a campfire as Linayel almost set himself on fire trying to warm himself up in the morning chill.

Two weeks ago her brother had almost died and she had been none the wiser.

A warm hand grasped her shoulder, “Idrilla.” Linayel’s voice broke the spell her mind had been crafting around her, and Idrilla shook her head.

“Apologies. I, well.” Idrilla turned the entirety of her gaze to Montilyet, “Da’ean, is he. Is my brother alright.”

Montilyet pursed her lips slightly, “The Inquisitor is stable, but he.” She falters, redness blossoming around her eyes as she visibly fought against her emotions, “He has not risen from the sleep Solas put him under while healing him. He has barely moved, nor made a sound. We don’t know why, or how to, how to..” She stops, raising a hand to her mouth. “I-I’m sorry.”

Linayel’s hand on Idrilla’s shoulder bites into her skin, “Take me to him. As the First in my clan, there is much I can do to aid my brother, things your Circle healers will not know.” The ice in Idrilla freezes her, the panic stopped but not reduced. This was nothing she could not handle, she was sure of it; all of her knowledge, all of her instruction would come to a waste if she could do nothing here.

Everything in her power would be enough.

Montilyet looked up at her, a faint sheen of tears well contained in her eyes. She nods, standing and catching her breath before opening the door back to the large hall. Montilyet leads them just a few steps over, through a second door and up a staircase. In her chest Idrilla’s heart is thawing as the ice retreats, replaced by a steady faith in her own abilities. Ahead of them Idrilla could hear faint whispers and soft footsteps, but couldn’t put an idea to them until they rounded the last of the stairs.

Two people stood next to Da’ean, who was lying still in a large bed. Idrilla’s heart fluttered again, Da’ean was _never_ still, the kid never stopped moving even when he wanted to. She couldn’t count the number of times Da’ean had woken her up in the night because he’d accidentally kicked or rolled over on top of her. Looking at him now Idrilla would have said this wasn’t her brother; there was no life in him, the brilliance in Da’ean snuffed out and gone in this imposter.

But as she took in the two standing next to him, Idrilla was forced to accept it was her brother there. Faces lined with exhaustion, and the despair which only surfaces when one truly has no hope etched into their eyes, both of them looked startled at Idrilla and Linayel’s appearance.

Montilyet moved her hand towards Idrilla, “Dorian, Bull I’d like to introduce you.”

Idrilla stepped forward, “Idrilla Lavellan,” She looked between the two of them, Dorian and Bull. Da’ean had mentioned them before in passing, in longing rather, but Idrilla had thought it was more a passing fancy than anything else. Apparently, she had thought wrong. “I’ve been told my brother needs some healing.”

The human, Dorian if Idrilla is remembering correctly, looks as though Idrilla just struck him with lightning. With his mouth dropping open to gasp like something out of a novel Idrilla wondered how he’d kept himself together the past couple of weeks.

Before she could finish her assessment, Linayel took the few steps which remained between him and Da’ean with sharp, shaking movements. A thick noise remains clogged in Idrilla’s throat as Linayel takes Da’ean’s hand and clasps it against his chest. “ _Ir abelas_ ” Linayel bends his head down, shoulders trembling as he repeats himself, again and again, whispers loud enough to be heard by the still room.

With the air in her lungs growing tight, Idrilla turns back to Montilyet, “Do you have any proficient spirit healers? If so, please fetch them, I will need their assistance.” Idrilla only waits for Montilyet to nod before moving closer to Da’ean herself. “Linayel, if you would.”

Linayel gently places Da’ean’s hand down and nods in Idrilla’s direction. From the pack at his hip, he withdraws a small beautifully decorated clay pot and a leather pouch, both of which he hands to Idrilla. “ _Ma serannas_.” Carefully, Idrilla opens the pouch and takes a pinch of the dried and crushed herbs inside to place them within the pot. The delicate scent of elfroot begins to linger in the air, along with the other, less recognizable to some, fragrances. Idrilla hands the pot back to Linayel with a small inclination of her head, now totally ignoring the others in the room as they stare. Linayel moves to sit on the bed, delicately lifting Da’ean’s head to rest it in his lap, and takes the pot to hold it between both palms directly over Da’ean. He nods towards Idrilla, who takes a deep breath.

Idrilla begins with a prayer, intoning Mythal in the way taught to her by Istimaethoriel and asking Ghilan’nain for guidance as she steps through the dance to cleanse the area. The surroundings fade for her as she focuses completely on her movements; the sound of the door opening and closing nothing but an afterthought, her breathing slowing and evening out. The dance coming to a close Idrilla pulls her feet together and clasps her hands, holding one finger on each hand above the rest and lighting a spark from them. Idrilla brings her face close to the flame and blows it from her finger the light traveling the length of Da’ean’s body to float into the waiting pot in Linayel’s hands.

The moment the flame touches the earthenware pot a smokey white circle blooming into existence, blossoming from the pot and passing through the room around them. Instantly the air is clearer, the paralysing fear for her brother falling from her limbs and heart as the smoke filters through Idrilla.

“What _was_ that?” Dorian asks in a faint voice, as if afraid to break the air of sanctuary which had settled over the room.

Drawing herself up Idrilla turns to look at him, “A purification. The real work begins now. The poison they used is… An ancient form of Mage Bane, but works on elves as well as mages.”

“How are you familiar with this, in the weeks since the attack on the Inquisitor all the mages in the inner circle have been searching for information. I, myself, have been scouring the Fade and yet even so I have learned only mere whispers.” A pale elf Idrilla had not seen enter speaks up, and Idrilla notes the lack of vallaslin on his face.

City elf then, perhaps not entirely in the way he talks -as if he expects her to listen totally without question- but still. No Dalish elf of age would go without vallaslin without cause. Idrilla rolls her shoulders at the question though, she thought she would have to deal with this at some point, and Idrilla had always been one to get things over with quickly. “I know of it from a book found within ruins near the Vimmark Mountains. I will say nothing more of it, but believe me when I say I can bring my brother back from this unnatural slumber.”

Apparently satisfied the elf nods, “One more question then, you said this affects both mages and elves. Why is that?”

Dorian and another tall human woman Idrilla did not know both turn slightly to look at her, the human asking “Yes I was wondering that as well dear, just how has this affected our Inquisitor?”

Idrilla sighs, “The explanation is lengthy, if you truly desire the answer then I shall give it as I heal Da’ean, it will perhaps make more sense to you if you watch.”

Linayel, who had been quiet since he’d placed Da’ean’s head in his lap gave Idrilla the ghost of a smirk. “ _Are you ready yet or will you keep jabbering with these shems_?” He asks in elvhen, causing Idrilla to roll her eyes and once again shift her feet to face Da’ean lying before her.

“ _I’ll take as much time as I please_.” Closing her eyes Idrilla readies herself with a breath to begin. “We are different than humans, or dwarves, or even qunari. Elves are, or well you could say have innate magic within them. Our mages are stronger for this, but even those elves who are not mages are connected to the Fade in ways others are not.”

Reaching with her magic, Idrilla latches on to the energy flowing within Da’ean, bringing it to light and searching for the poison within it. “If you were to sever this connection with the Fade, deeper than when one is made Tranquil, the elf would die. Slowly at first, but over time they would quickly lose energy and waste away into nothing.” Idrilla opens her eyes, there. Sitting menacingly over her brother was a malevolent pool of black sickly energy.

“This energy flows through us, and collects in seven different locations, the same as it is for any mage when they draw from the Fade. They called this poison Fade Lurk, and to remove it I will need to cleanse all of the energy in my brother, anything which could have been touched I will have to purify.”

Moving her hands in a graceful circle before bringing them down over Da’ean, Idrilla turns her head slightly to glance at the others. Unorthodox as it was to share this, she would need their help soon and Idrilla would rather have them understand what she was doing than fumble around her without a clue. The closer Idrilla moved towards the black energy with her magic, the more it repelled her, waves of pain moving through the system. Idrilla could feel it as a blockage in the flow of energy in Da’ean’s body, the lethargy and dead which was seeping into his limbs without the flow maintaining him.

Idrilla looks at the others, “That is where you come in. While I am purifying Da’ean it will expel the Fade Lurk out. To rid ourselves of it completely you will need to destroy it.” She turns away from them casting her gaze back to Da’ean. “I cannot do this, I will be too focused on the purification.”

“Destroy it? _Kaffas_ a little more to go on would be appreciated.” Dorian sounded affronted, and underneath scared.

Idrilla could sympathize with that fear, if she failed to purify all of the Fade Lurk it would continue to plague Da’ean and would kill him. Soon. So she takes a deep breath and nods, “I could tell you how I would get rid of it, but I do not know what school you use. Destroy it, in any way you see fit.”

It was time. There was no more room to linger, Idrilla could begin now or doubt herself forever. Idrilla plunged herself into the black energy and came out gasping. All around her was home; the warmer air and scent of halla, the sound of aravels creaking in the wind, her clan all around, walking and talking and breathing. Alive and vibrant.

A laugh as familiar as her own rang out through the slight buzz of voices, at a fire just to her left sat Da’ean. Da’ean was smiling as their father made a large grandiose gesture, in the middle of a story no doubt, while their mother was resting against their father’s shoulder listening with her own soft smile. Idrilla’s sense of urgency sharpened as Da’ean caught her gaze with his own. “Idrilla! You’re just in time, bae was just getting to the part where Mathalin is gifted Evanura.”

Idrilla strode forward, “Da’ean, what are you doing here. You need to be fighting back against this, the whole of Skyhold is waiting for you. I’m waiting for you.”  

A confused air came across Da’ean’s smile, “What do you mean? Skyhold? That was nothing, just a dream I had once.”

 _Fenedhis_. “No. No Da’ean it was not. You’re lucky to be alive but to stay that way I need you to come to your senses.” Idrilla’s heart was thrumming heavy under her skin, the feel of this place was wrong, it carried a sense of decay underneath the shining exterior. “Listen to me, there are people outside of here, outside of our clan who need you. The two you wrote to me about, The Iron Bull and Dorian, the Inquisition, Linayel, we all need you.”

As he listened to her words Da’ean shook his head, blinking. “That, no that can’t be right Idrilla. Why.. How?” He stood suddenly, and the world changed around them.

“ _You’ll fail the Inquisition just like you failed your sister._ ” Idrilla stood in a pool of sickly green water lapping up her calves. Before Idrilla stood Da’ean, in armor she had never seen wielding daggers she had engraved. Da’ean flinched at the voice but stood his ground as the voice continued to taunt him. “ _You are weak. Unable to bring anything except sorrow in your wake_.”

Da’ean turned his head to the sky and gasped heavily as thick rain began to fall down on them. Thick, sticky, and black it clung to their skin like pitch on a torch. “These are lies Da’ean, don’t listen to them!” Idrilla reached to put a hand on Da’ean’s shoulder but found she couldn’t move. “You have so much light inside of you, don’t let this fear extinguish it. Burn brighter and spite it. Show it what you are capable of.”

“I…” Da’ean laughed hollowly, “I have done nothing but made those around me suffer. Nothing! I’ve been useless, I couldn’t save Ashalle, I couldn’t save the boy from the Dirthavaren, I couldn’t save Stroud I couldn’t..” Tears flow freely down Da’ean’s face to match the rain. “Everyone around me dies.”

Idrilla shook her head frantically, “None of that was your fault. Da’ean, _none_ of that was your fault. People die, and those left behind move on. You must move on, clinging to this is killing you. I will not, cannot leave here without you Da’ean.”

“No one blames you for those deaths except you. Let go of them Da’ean, remember them but do not allow them to control you. You are stronger than this, and even when you feel as if you’re not trust me when I say you are.”

Drawing herself forward Idrilla pushes through the thick rain to stand next to Da’ean. Taking his hand Idrilla pulls him forward into a tight hug. “I can’t lose you, not even to yourself.”

A sob wracks its way through Da’ean, “Okay. _Okay_.” The rain lightens, turning from the black miasma into a clear pure water. Da’ean laughed around tears, “I thought… I thought I had moved on, Idrilla I want you to meet two very special people.”

Idrilla laughs herself, and if the tears on Da’ean’s face were mirrored on hers Da’ean wouldn’t tell. “I think I have already, but you’ll have to introduce me when you wake up.”

Da’ean nods and steps out of Idrilla’s embrace, “You’re right. I think I’ve stayed here too long.” He looks towards the sky and smiles, the black energy Idrilla had come in after was loosening its hold and Idrilla shoved it with all of her might.

The scene shattered around her and Idrilla found herself standing at the foot of Da’ean’s bed. Around her, the scent of burning tar filled the air while she took a single step back. “Da’ean? _Da’isama’lin can you hear me_?”  Idrilla knew she had purified all the misama, she knew it and yet fear still ran through her veins as Da’ean didn’t answer. “Linayel, the Fade Lurk, was it destroyed?”

“Completely.” The elf from before spoke up, “You were quite impressive I might add, that was no insignificant accomplishment.”

Idrilla nods, “And yet nothing has happened. My brother should be waking.” Pausing, Idrilla walked around to reach for Da’ean’s wrist. Taking a moment to listen, Idrilla found his heart was steady in its rhythm against her fingers and she let out a sigh of relief. “Perhaps he just needs a little more rest.”

Idrilla moves to the space between the balcony and the bed, “Linayel, help me clean this up.” She motions to the soot marks on the ground, “ _I need a distraction if you don’t mind_.”

“ _Not at all_.” Carefully Linayel maneuvers himself out from under Da’ean to kneel next to Idrilla.

A small rustle of clothing behind them, but Idrilla pays it no mind. She will leave the two Da’ean told her about to themselves for now, let them decode their thoughts before Da’ean awoke. It would make things easier for him when he did wake.

Minutes pass as Idrilla and Linayel make quick work of the remains of the Fade Lurk, she listens as two people leave the room, probably the tall human woman and the pale elf. Ah well, Idrilla could get introductions later. Soon, there is nothing left but clean stone and Idrilla stands.

Too long, it must have been too long. Da’ean wasn’t waking, why wasn’t he-

Da’ean moved, just a small thing, a stretch of the body when one is crossing the point between blissful sleep and unwanted consciousness. Idrilla’s breath caught around her heart lodged in her throat. “ _Mythal enaste._ ” She breathed, legs turning wobbly underneath her as Idrilla slowly brought herself to the ground, “ _Mythal enaste_.”

On the bed, Da’ean’s eyes fluttered open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking with me loves, sorry this chapter is Totally Unbeta-ed and is probably Rougher than usual but fear not! I'm now free from undergrad and this summer should be On The Writing Spree.


	14. Foward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bangs pots and pans together, look im productive sometimes! an update in two months hot diggity shit

At first, Da’ean was aware of his own exhaustion; an ache which lingered deep within his bones, leeching strength from him. Which was, odd. Perhaps he had overexerted himself during the fight with the dragon yesterday, not too concerning as they  _ had _ been fighting for the beast for far longer than any of their usual skirmishes. Except this felt deeper, somehow, and shifting through Da’ean was a soft healing energy; washing away that exhaustion. From where Da'ean couldn't say, although it was deeply familiar to him, like a piece of home he couldn't place.

Shifting slightly under the sheets Da’ean realized how sluggish he had become. It was as if he were moving under some great weight, his limbs slow to respond and weak. Oh Mythal _enaste_ , he wasn’t dying he needed to move. Da’ean tried to reach to his side, searching for the warmth of Bull and Dorian and found empty cold sheets. Still groggy with sleep Da’ean reached out again still only hitting the cold air. What? Da’ean  _ always _ woke up first, without fail he’d be awake in the glow before dawn to sneak out of bed to attend to his duties while Dorian and Bull slept. Something was going on, there had to be. But what? They should have woken him, resting or not if there was some issue at hand he needed to be there. 

Blearily he opened his eyes, blinking at the sharpness of the light. Only for a heavy weight to plop itself down beside him and loom over his face. Oh, so he wasn’t awake then, he couldn’t be. Right over him was the bright golden eyes of Linayel, his  _ nas’falon _ who was across the Waking Sea. Da’ean opened his mouth to speak but it turned into a yawn, he needed to wake himself up. This was no time for sleep, there were far too many things for him to be doing.    
  
Above him, Linayel grinned, although it seemed more relieved than glad, “About time.” There was no warning before Da’ean was engulfed in a bear hug from Linayel. Not that there ever was really any warning before that happened but what did he mean ‘About time’? About time for what? Even as far as dreams went this was making little sense to Da’ean and confusion filtered its way across his brow. There was also a hard pressure against his sternum to add to his confusion, although he had little time to dwell on it as Linayel squeezed him. 

There was a muffled sound somewhere in the distance, unimportant surely. Da’ean tried speaking Linayel’s name without yawning this time, but only air came out. Linayel looked at him confused and backed out of Da’ean’s space ever so slightly. He couldn’t be awake, could he? The light streaming in felt real across his exposed skin, the sheets real against the rest. Surely?

Da’ean moved again, this time trying to wiggle his way out from under Linayel to sit up, his side stiff and unresponsive for some reason. Again he tried to ask ‘why’ or maybe ‘how’ but all that passed his lips was silence. Elgar’nan what was happening. Da’ean shook his head, he was just tired. They’d had a long day yesterday, and now… He was just tired, that had to be it. 

But, in the back of his mind lingered a ghost of a memory. Rain, a sharp pain in his middle, frantic voices, and fear of… Something. 

“Da’ean you look... Confused. Are you still hurt?” Turning his head to look past Linayel’s now scrunched face only lent more confusion. Da’ean didn’t have an explanation as to why his sister would be in his room in Skyhold. Her letter this morning said she was at least a week and a half away, near the Waking Sea. Yet, there she was, standing tall with a worried look in her eyes. 

Trying to form a question Da’ean’s voice failed him a third time and a long forgotten panic bubbled up like a tainted spring. Eyes wide Da’ean raised a hand to his throat but nothing was wrong with it, no wound just smooth skin. No, it couldn’t have returned; his chest tightened suddenly as the air in the room thinned without warning, the air he rapidly sucked in not reaching his lungs. 

Linayel’s hand smacked down on his shoulder, the sharp action pulling Da’ean out of the spiraling panic which had begun to take over him, Da’ean’s vision restricting until there was nothing but Linayel in front of him. “Breath Da’ean, you’ve bested a lack of voice before, you can do it again.” Moving so Da’ean had no choice but to keep looking at him Linayel kept one hand on Da’ean’s shoulder and the other he raised to Da’ean’s face. “ _ Ma’halla you scared me _ .” 

Leaning into the touch Da’ean closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask in the warmth of Linayel before needing to back slightly out of Linayel’s reach to raise weak and unsteady hands. Da’ean takes a few tries but eventually signs ‘ _ What happened? _ ’ between them. Hazy memories are just out of his reach, taunting him from the edges of his mind. And yet Da’ean couldn’t remember them, his memories floating away to leave sharp pain in their wake. 

“What happened is that you almost died.” Idrilla said walking into Da’ean’s limited field of view, “I was able to heal you in time but Linayel and I know nothing more than that.” She tilts her head quizzically but not towards him, “I had been hoping you could explain but I think Linayel and I can wait a few minutes. We’ll be outside.”

Glancing at Linayel with a meaningful look Idrilla nods towards the door. Linayel, for his part, slides off the bed without a word and heads out, but not before he glances over to the side and looks back at Da’ean with a wink. Ears reddening Da’ean looks away from his  _ nas’falon _ , accidentally meeting Dorian’s eyes for the first time since he woke up in the process. 

And Dorian looks like hell, oh sure his khol was in place and he was still wearing a ridiculous amount of leather and tastefully arranged buckles but there was a staleness to it. Too thin lines around his eyes and his usually immaculate hair was disheveled from him running his hands through it. Da’ean knew this look, Dorian wore it when he was immersed in research spending too much time with his books instead of with people. 

It was Dorian’s eyes though that stopped Da’ean’s thoughts in their tracks, where they normally held brilliance Dorian’s eyes now contained only fearful exhaustion. It made Da’ean sick with worry, and he couldn’t hold Dorian’s gaze for long.  He dropped his eyes to Dorian’s chest and when Da’ean’s eyes landed on the pendant resting there his heart leaped into his throat. 

Eyes wide Da’ean almost chokes, but he looks over to Bull and there, too, rests a matching pendant. A third of a dragon’s tooth on a cord Da’ean had braided his soul into, each knot a confession of the whirling mess of emotions he couldn’t control and finally had the courage to name. A silent frantic laugh bubbles out of him as Da’ean reaches up to grasp the pendant hanging from around his own neck tightly, the sharp edges of the tooth digging into the skin of his palm. The pressure from earlier now explained before he could even ask, a weight he hadn’t bothered to think about but now he couldn’t ignore the reality of it. 

The stark stunned silence Bull and Dorian had been keeping broke as Dorian all but trips over himself in his haste to reach Da’ean. Da’ean’s eyes met Dorian’s again and suddenly Da’ean needed touch, reassurance he was still present. Something, anything, to ground him in the moment. Tangled as he was, Da’ean barely managed to make it to the side of their bed before Dorian engulfed him in his arms. 

“ _ Amatus. _ ” Scarcely more than a breath Da’ean felt the weight of the word settle deep in his chest. Dorian shook quietly, tremors running just under his skin as he held Da’ean, his head pressed against Da’ean’s neck. Da’ean let the tooth fall from his hand, choosing instead to hold as tightly to Dorian as Dorian was to him. 

_ Just what had happened? _ Idrilla had said he almost died, but the last thing Da’ean remembered was falling asleep almost as soon as the three of them made it back here. Dorian’s fear and his own lack of voice? The memory -dream?- of pain… Those planted a darker reality in Da’ean’s mind. 

Da’ean clutched Dorian against him craving the contact against his skin. Looking up to find Bull, to drag him next to them somehow and complete their little circle, Da’ean found him standing just out of reach. Relief and grief and something else, something deeper, playing on his face as Da’ean reached out a hand to pull him close alongside Dorian. 

Home, safety, comfort. Perhaps if he was feeling brave Da’ean would even call it love. Whatever words he put to the emotions running wild through his heart and body Da’ean knew something had threatened it, had threatened them. Dorian’s fear was one thing but the tension Da’ean felt thrumming through Bull’s entire body, only relieved when Bull scooped him up with Dorian, was another. 

They curled around each other in silence for moments, the only sound that of their breathing, harsh with unshed tears of hurt, of relief, of panic. Soft with a grief so narrowly avoided. 

Dorian broke the silence first. “ _ Amatus _ .” A repeated confession mumbled more than spoken into the crook of Da’ean’s neck, “Are you... Are you feeling alright?” Dorian pulls away slightly, his eyes searching into Da’ean’s own. Looking for, something, but Da’ean doesn’t know what. 

For lack of a better answer, Da’ean puts a hand over his mouth, shakes his head, and shrugs. There’s no way to communicate for him unless he wants to write everything down. Da’ean pauses as the realization washes over him.  _ He couldn’t communicate _ . Not with Dorian, not with Bull, not with Josephine or Vivienne or Cassandra. Only Idrilla and Linayel would know their hand language, maybe Dalish if he was lucky but probably not. Face falling Da’ean looks between his two lovers, hand still over his mouth now there to cover the way it twisted with his own anguish. 

How would he be able to talk to the… Actually no that would be a plus for Da’ean, even if it maybe meant the eventual collapse of the Inquisition when it faltered from lack of allies because the Inquisitor couldn’t meet to discuss things in person anymore. 

Hysteria started to churn in his gut but before it could grow further Bull took away his hand from his mouth and grasped his chin, forcing Da’ean to meet his eyes. “Breath Da’ean, you always forget to breathe.” 

Da’ean does as he’s told, mimicking the pattern of easy measured rise and fall of Bull’s chest as he exaggerates his own breathing. He can do this.  _ They _ can do this. Dropping the hand Bull held down to his chest Da’ean grasped for the dragon tooth pendant and closed his eyes. They could do this. 

_ Ar lath ma _ Da’ean thinks  _ I love you _ . 

Calm now Da’ean reopens his eyes and nods at Bull, a relieved and grateful smile just barely emerging across his lips. “Has this happened to you before. The no voice thing?” Caution colors Bull’s voice, caution, and curiosity. “It’s not totally unheard in people with  _ asala-taar _ , rare though.” 

Dorian stays quiet while he looks at Da’ean thoughtfully. Da’ean just nods, mouthing ‘ _ Ashalle _ ’ and hoping they understand. 

“Ah.” Bull tugs Da’ean a hair closer, “Well we’re going to need a translator for a while I guess.” His hand on Da’ean’s waist was warm and familiar, fingers pressing lightly against the thin linen of Da’ean’s shirt, a visible, physical reminder. It’s so little, so casual, so  _ normal _ a gesture Da’ean finds himself focusing on it entirely. The shape of Bull’s hand over his skin familiar enough it’s as if it’s always been there. 

So focused Da’ean barely notices Dorian is moving until he leaves and Da’ean is overwhelmed by a surge of panic. Nearly frantic Da’ean throws a hand out to catch Dorian’s wrist his eyes wide with this unknown terror. Startled Dorian turns around, “Da’ean? Did you not hear me say I was going to get your sister?” 

Da’ean shakes his head, the sudden racing of his heart not calmed but not sending him to an early grave now either. ‘ _ Sorry _ ’ He mouths, dropping his hand and eyes as he falls back onto Bull’s chest. 

Shame creeps its way up Da’ean’s chest into his face and ears, darkening his skin as he watched Dorian disappear down the stairs. Why had he been so afraid just now; it was just the three of them here, none of them in any danger. And yet as Dorian disappeared from his sight it sent chills running down his spine. Da’ean shivered, this was nonsense. There was no reason for this, so what if he had “nearly died” Da’ean could take care of himself. As could Dorian and Bull, Da’ean reminded himself. Whatever panic had taken hold of him could back right off. 

Anger at himself started to boil in his veins, Elgar’nan what was  _ wrong _ with him! Planting his feet firmly on the stone Da’ean stood up and shook his head forcefully. Nothing was wrong with him, something had happened and it had taken his voice. It wasn’t as if Da’ean could never get it back, he would just have to wait it out again, practice speaking until he could give the words voice again. Frustrated Da’ean grabbed handfuls of his own hair and yanked, he didn’t have time to wait, he’d already wasted a great deal of it apparently. 

“Hey now.” Bull’s hands cover his own, easing them out of the tight grasp on his curls. Softly Bull turned Da’ean to face him, hands lifted over his head like a dance, and placed a softer kiss on the back of each hand. “Teach me what you used to talk to that other elf, the one with your sister. Solves us some communication problems.” 

Voices from the stairwell saved Da’ean from having to answer, the swelling tide of gratitude and desire threatening to swallow him whole. Whiplash from the abrupt shift causing his skin to tingle, and yet for Bull to offer something so simple, a thing taught in his clan early enough all of them could speak it without thought but Bull wasn’t Clan. And here he was asking to learn simply to talk for the time when Da’ean couldn’t. It opened possibilities Da’ean hadn’t considered before, problems he hadn’t needed to think about before could be solved. 

Placing a hand right below his bottom lip Da’ean moved it away from himself in a downward arc while mouthing ‘ _ thank you _ ’. Da’ean repeated the movement, finishing just as Idrilla and Linayel rounded the top of the stairs. 

“Da’ean why in Elgar’nan’s name are you up.” It wasn’t really a question with that tone, Idrilla had never allowed Da’ean to explain himself before and he couldn’t see her starting now. Her eyes were bright as she looked him over though with hands on her hips she was every inch the concerned First. 

But Da’ean gave her only an eye roll and a quick ‘ _ Walking _ ’ for an answer. Although when he looked at Linayel’s grinning face he couldn’t conceal his own grin.  _ Fenedhis _ he had missed Linayel, not having him by his side had caused more tension in Da’ean than he had previously thought. With Linayel Da’ean could breathe easy again, the his missing half present and laughing again. 

Idrilla gave a long-suffering sigh, “Right. And walking where exactly?” She sounded pleased though, her stance relaxing slightly as she finished looking him over. Head tilting and arms folding over her chest as she leaned back on a foot Idrilla waited for an answer with a slight smile. 

‘ _ Forward _ ’ His response came after a moment of pause he took to give Idrilla the answer she was really looking for. ‘ _ Walking forward. _ ’ Like his bae told him whenever the world became too much for him as a kid, his thick accent smoothing the edges of the words, a smile always present on his round face. “ _ It’s a long road that’s not got a turning. _ ” 

This road Da’ean was on was long yes, but he was not alone, and he had never been. With the dragon tooth pendant hanging securely from his neck, it’s matching pair hanging from Bull’s and Dorian’s in a private and proud declaration, Da’ean could finally see how blind he had been. How far he had come. With the help of those around him, Da’ean would make it past this too. 

Idrilla nods, “Let's get started then.” No nonsense, no playing around, Idrilla always meant what she said.

Shuffling everyone about she leaves with Linayel for only as long as it takes for Bull and Dorian to help Da’ean clean off and dress, two weeks of sleep leaving his muscles weak and his hands clumsy. Handling him almost as if Da’ean were some delicate thing, and where before it would have made him furious now Da’ean could sense the heavy lingering guilt in their touch and accepting it became easier. 

It was when he looked down at his now bare chest, wanting to find the source of the cold ache in his side, Da’ean saw it. A thick band of recently healed scar tissue, still jagged and pink around the edges set just to the right of his navel. Looking at it now Da’ean’s mind gave him only those same hints of rain, of cold stone, of an incredible pain and sense of fear. Da’ean’s whole body tenses as he traces the edges of ruined skin and he glances up from it only when Dorian puts a hand over his. 

“You’re a lot stronger than you look  _ kadan _ ,” Bulls says as he tucks a stray curl behind Da’ean’s ear, gently tugging on the lobe when he’s done. 

Da’ean’s laugh is more a huff of air than sound now, ducking out of Bull’s reach to grab for the shirt they’d laid out beforehand. Quickly he puts it on, covering the jagged scar and pushing it out of his mind. There was no time to linger on it here, if he wanted answers he would have to ask questions. And at the moment Da’ean needed a translator to do even that, so he would have to move on. 

But not before lingering on something else entirely perhaps. Turning back to his lovers Da’ean grabs their closest hand and kisses the back of them, one after the other. Maybe he can’t tell them with words right now, and maybe he had never been strong enough or confident enough or void take him even courageous enough to tell them with words earlier when they had deserved it. Da’ean could tell them with everything else; every time he caught their eyes, every time they touched, every time they kissed Da’ean could- No, Da’ean  _ would _ tell them how much he loved them.

The warmth in Dorian’s eyes as they softened was matched by the tenderness in Bull’s, and both served to quell the uneasy nervous energy in Da’ean’s stomach. He smiled shyly at them, a warm blush blossoming on his cheeks. Thoroughly pleased with himself Da’ean lowers their hands and starts toward the door, new confidence infusing every step.

Walking strong, Da'ean exits their room, not wanting to linger any longer. Solas and Vivienne were talking quietly with Josephine, and Idrilla is standing next to Linayel just outside the door to the main hall, and all of them looked up as Da'ean stepped off the stairs. Dorian and Bull just behind him on the flight where he stops. 

Looking first at Idrilla Da’ean turns between them gathered there, ‘ _ I need to know what happened. _ ’ He signs at Idrilla to the sharp apprehension of the others. His sister nods with a slight shrug before she too looks at everyone else. 

“I take it you noticed my brother used sign. At the moment he’s lost his voice, and although it’s not the first time such a thing has happened to him, there is no guarantee Da’ean will find it again quickly.” Idrilla’s voice brooks no room for interruption as she explains but even so Vivienne purses her lips while Josie’s mouth drops open in surprise. “Until he regains it you’ll need to learn how to speak using your hands. Linayel and I will be able to work as translators for the moment and can teach you what you’ll need to know. And right now, the first thing you need to tell us is what happened, Linayel and I are in the dark and Da’ean,” She glances in his direction with a raised eyebrow, “You don’t remember what happened do you?” 

Da’ean shakes his head no, ‘ _ Dragon fight _ ’ it’s the last day he remembers ‘ _ we came back from a dragon fight and then nothing, until this morning. _ ’ There’s no need for him to add the shadow memories taunting him just out of reach, they’d only worry everyone. It isn’t even like they help anyway and besides the others would be able to explain what happened. 

Dorian’s teeth must hurt with how fast he sucks in a breath, “You don’t remember what happened? Nothing at all?” There’s something in the way he says it, the way his breath catches around the words, something heavy and ugly and Da’ean shifts to give him a curious look as he shakes his head again. 

It doesn’t last long as the almost silence is broken by Linayel’s laughter, “Did you say you fought a dragon, Creators  _ ma’halla _ you must be joking.” His words break not only the silence but the growing nervous apprehension in the air; Josie relaxes enough to crack a smile while Vivienne rolls the stiffness out of her shoulders. 

Da’ean’s grin almost hurts it's so wide as he holds up the dragon tooth pendant and lets it drop to bounce against his chest. ‘ _ Fought and killed the dragon _ .’

Not dropping his grin Linayel’s eyebrows climb into his hairline,  “ _ That’s not the only thing you seem to have conquered. _ ” 

If it were not always breezy in Skyhold from all the cold drafts Da’ean would have combusted on the spot, as it was his skin certainly was trying if the dark flush covering his body was any indication. At least Linayel had the tact to say it in elvhen so only Idrilla could hear it. 

It was only when Solas choked on his laugh that Da’ean remembered him.  _ Fenedhis lasa _

Ignoring the looks of confusion all being thrown in his direction Da’ean desperately signed to Idrilla ‘ _ Move on _ ’. Only to have her laugh at him, what else should he have expected. Not help apparently. 

“Alright,” Idrilla says around the last of her laughter, “Alright pull yourself together Linayel we do actually need to know what happened and Da’ean told us the last thing he remembered was a dragon fight and coming back from it. When did the attack occur? On the same night or later? And more importantly who attacked?” She directs the last towards Josephine and the others in front of her, although its Bull who answers her questions, coming down off the last of the stairs to stand next to Da’ean. 

“It was the same night, late. Way late. Da’ean was on the balcony in the storm for less than a minute before whatever assassin reached him. Don’t know who it was since we haven’t caught them.” 

_ Standing in the rain on the balcony, Da’ean shivered as goosebumps raised on his skin. The rain was cold through his thin shirt but he didn’t mind, he craved the water and lightning deep within his soul and being a little chilly was a small price to pay. Da’ean looks back over his shoulder into their room, towards the bed he shared with his lovers. His  _ vhenan _. Bull’s voice just barely reaching him through the storm, sensed and understood more than truly heard. The cold of the rain chased away by the warmth in his heart as it spread through him. Soon, soon he would be able to give them the necklaces, he would wait until after they had sealed the sky completely before Da’ean… Before asking them if they…  _

_ First Da’ean would be able to tell them he loved them, any more was only wishful thinking and he wasn’t ready to think about anything else yet.  _

_ Smile still drenched with rain Da’ean’s ears twitch a warning too late to be headed. A thick arm wraps around his neck and drags him up off the floor, cutting off his air. Stars bloom across his vision as Da’ean’s legs instinctively kick out, but there’s nothing he can do before white-hot pain sears through him. Da’ean would scream if he had air in his lungs but there’s nothing there.  _

_ Nothing. _

Da’ean gasps with all the strength in his lungs, hands flying to his neck. No arm is there to block his air, his feet are planted solidly on the floor. Eyes rolling back partially Da’ean closes his eyes to steady whatever memory had come back to punch him in the gut. In the past, it was in the past and couldn’t harm him now. Slowly he counts to three, evening out his breaths before opening his eyes to meet Idrilla’s sharp gaze. 

Carefully Dorian’s hand comes to rest on Da’ean’s shoulder his fingers tangling with Da’ean’s to bring them away from his throat. “Are you alright?” Dorian’s voice ghosts over Da’ean’s ear, pressed close enough to feel the heat of him against his back, words only meant for Da’ean. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat Da’ean nods, ‘ _ I remember the rain and the attack. I do not want to press further. _ ’ 

“We won’t ask you to Da’ean.” Idrilla’s eyes don’t leave Da’ean’s as she translates to the others. “I think it is time to simply move on.” 

Thankfully the others agree, and the subject drifts towards plans to learn sign, how to keep the nobles happy with the need for a translator, involving Idrilla in the war council meetings both for her advice and her translations. Da’ean doesn’t keep too close an eye on their talks, thoughts narrowing on the tangle of his fingers in Dorian’s, not having dropped his hand since Dorian had taken it. Rough calluses, newly acquired in the south are forming on his palm although they’re no match for the archer’s calluses on Da’ean’s own hand. 

Whatever had happened no longer mattered to Da’ean. Here in this moment became everything, living stronger now than he had ever been before. It wasn’t long, or maybe it was Da’ean couldn’t tell before all of them were lead out into the main hall heading for the War Room. Da’ean barely notices the hush fall over the entire space as he stepped out nor does he take note of how quickly the voices begin to ring out again. Josephine calls in everyone to the council, explanations are given but Da’ean is given a healthy amount of space from everyone except Bull and Dorian, who remain at either side. They’re close enough no one notices when Da’ean curls his palm against Bull’s matching his hold on Dorian’s hand, or if they do no one says anything. 

The world becomes hazy, blurring around the edges as the day passes in meeting after meeting; schedules arranged and rearranged, talks of raising security and guards, talks Da’ean doesn’t bother to listen in on. No one bothers him as he drifts with his thoughts, just on the edge of being alone. It is more peace than Da’ean has had in some time. Able to just breathe, no weight or demand, just himself and the warmth of his  _ vhenan _ ’s hands in his. 

One day slips into many, days bleed into weeks until the weeks become months. Da’ean’s voice makes no return no matter how hard he practices, he falls asleep between Bull and Dorian and wakes to them in the morning unable to do more than sigh. Both of them quickly pick up on sign so Da’ean is not left entirely without a voice, but Elgar’nan is it difficult to use it when the both of them are void bent on driving thought from his head. 

Beyond anything else, Da’ean grew to understand the tangled mess lodged in his chest. No need for shame or doubt, there was no room for them to claw into here. Not anymore. Dorian and Bull made quite sure Da’ean knew what he meant to them, and the ghost memory between them forced Da’ean into accepting them. To accept they loved him and he was allowed to truly love them in return. It was a freedom Da’ean had craved for almost a year, lying to himself and saying they would move on. More than once Da’ean laughed at himself, at his own stupidity, only for Dorian or Bull to catch him and ask why. 

‘ _ My idiocy _ ’ Is the only thing he would tell them in return. 

The flow of days kept moving, everyone falling into a new steady pace, and with midsummer a mere two months out they’re back in swing for the next big step of their actual goal. As Morrigan constantly reminds them, time is of the essence and they’ve squandered not an insignificant portion of it. Although she has stopped saying much else when Idrilla is around, one lengthy discussion about how much the Dalish  _ did _ remember was enough for her to not wish another. 

Da’ean did catch Idrilla with Solas, although the upbraiding the older elf received was decidedly more long-winded. The other time he caught them together Da’ean thought he would need to wash his eyes out with the strongest soap he could find and he avoided the rotunda for a week. 

Linayel formed a quick bond with Sera as soon as Da’ean introduced them, both of them eventually disappearing with identical grins and while Da’ean didn’t really feel  _ bad _ about whatever they were up too he also didn’t think they would get caught. Often. It was almost a relief when the visiting Orlesian’s only ended up with wet clothes and doodled masks. 

Within a month and a half Da’ean told the latest war council it was time to move out officially, they had been sending spies and light forces into the Arbor Wild for months now. Da’ean’s own strength had returned, Morrigan and Idrilla were on speaking terms again and agreed the faster they could reach whatever was down there the better. Between them it was decided, they would leave by the end of the week, a mere five days to ready the forces to follow them while Da’ean would go ahead with a select few. 

The night before they left Da’ean found himself resting his chin on Dorian’s shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around his bare waist. “As much as I enjoy your evening activities  _ amatus _ I do hope your planning on sleeping sometime tonight.” Dorian’s voice was warm as he ran the tips of his fingers down Da’ean’s arms. Da’ean shivers slightly at the contact, wanting to bask in their shared warmth before they do eventually have to sleep. 

‘Vhenan  _ it's not late yet. _ ’ It was, the candles had long since burned out leaving only the moonlight for them to see by. It was enough for Da’ean to see the glint of Dorian’s teeth as he laughs. 

“It will be by the time we’re done.” Bull’s gravelly voice is rough and heady, Da’ean’s heart flutters against his chest even sated as he is. Glancing out of the corner of his eye Da’ean can still make out the outline of Bull relaxing against the headboard half covered by the sheet they had rumpled.

Da’ean giggles silently, a grin forming on his lips. He makes sure Bull can see him roll his eyes before he blows into Dorian’s ear. Swearing Dorian flinches away while Da’ean’s laughter shakes his shoulders. It doesn’t take long for Da’ean to pull Dorian back against himself, skin flush against skin, to leave a trail of warm kisses down from his temple to his jaw. 

Home to Da’ean was different now, it had always been people he cared about but now he belonged with these two drastically different men. It made him shudder to think about how hard he had pushed them both, how easily it could have all been different. The love Da’ean felt for them nearly drowned him, washing away at the insecurities trapped deep within him until they broke free. Soothing the darkest and most hidden parts of himself. 

Bull’s mouth on his neck and the softness of Dorian’s skin under his hands didn’t let him linger in his own thoughts, they pulled at him with a force Da’ean couldn’t -didn’t want to ignore. 

It would be some time before any of them would sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i know sign is not as straightforward as i have Da'ean speaking it here, i decided to go with it for ease of reading and writing to be honest, im not overly familiar with the intricacies of asl or any other sign language but if any of you do Please please please drop a comment or send me a message on tumblr and i'll fix or add whatever needs done. 
> 
> i also am in desperate need of a beta, as im sure you can tell. if any of y'all are interested shoot me a message at apostatetabris.tumblr.com and i will defo talk to you about it. 
> 
> and as always thank you guys for reading, your kudos/comments/continual support mean the absolute world to me and keep me going as a writer. thank you <3


End file.
